


Plastic

by kuroiyousei



Series: His Own Humanity [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU - Modern U.S. plus magic, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Friendship: Duo & Trowa, Friendship: Heero & Quatre, Gay Duo, Gay Heero, Gay Quatre, Gay Trowa, Get-together story for main couple(s), Humor, Introspection, Language (gendered), Language (general), Language (religious), M/M, Misunderstanding/lack of communication, One instance each of homophobic and racist language, POV: Duo, POV: Heero, POV: Quatre, POV: Trowa, Pairing - Secondary: Original male character & Relena, Pairing - Secondary: Treize & Zechs, Pining, Romance, Sex (Explicit), Straight Relena, Surprise/forced kissing, Wufei is a ridiculous character in this series, psychological torment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 101
Words: 151,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroiyousei/pseuds/kuroiyousei
Summary: When Heero rescues an abandoned doll from the gutter, he hardly thinks it’s going to change his life; but now he and his best friend Quatre find themselves involved in the breaking of a curse from almost a hundred years ago, and perhaps in falling for exactly the wrong people.





	1. Part 0

"I've had enough of this."

"Enough of what?"

"Don't play ignorant; you know what. You _knew_ she and I were to go driving today; you deliberately kept her out all afternoon so she would miss the appointment."

"So?"

"So?! So, you are _sabotaging_ my relationship with her!"

"And if I am? All's fair in love and war, my friend."

"You don't _love_ her. You don't care about her at all. You're just trying to make sure _I_ don't win her. You're being petty and shallow and... and _fake_. It's as if you were made of _plastic_."

"Oh, _plastic_, that _is_ appropriate. No surprise you should mention that, since that's all _you_ care about. You never behaved like this when we were _both_ poor, but ever since that promotion at the factory, you think you can just _buy_ everything you want -- a big flat, a motorcar, even a nice woman. You don't care about her either! She's simply another _object_ to you."

"Good lord, Duo, is this really about _money_? How can you deny being petty while you're saying such things?"

"_No_, this isn't about money... not entirely. But ever since you've _had_ money, you've become more and more disconnected with the human world and human emotions. You don't care about people anymore -- not her, not me, not anyone. You don't care about _anything_ beyond your damned work!"

"You'd probably better watch what you're accusing me of. You may not _want_ to find out just how much I care."

  
[Art by Link Worshiper](http://link_worshiper.livejournal.com/)


	2. Part 1

Heero's glance into the gutter to make sure nothing was going to splash up at him as he stepped over it turned into a double-take and a pause. Something unexpectedly flesh-colored had seized his attention, and as he looked down more pointedly he stopped walking entirely. Then he bent and picked up the object that had caught his interest.

It was a doll -- one of those Barbie men, whatever they were called, that dated Barbie or whatever they did -- though Heero hadn't thought they made them anatomically correct these days, nor the males with such long hair. Lying on the ground hadn't done its state of cleanliness much good, and it had no clothes, but seemed otherwise undamaged. What a strange thing to find in the gutter.

He weighed the doll in his hand, looking around for a child that might perhaps have dropped it. The plastic had a somewhat brittle feeling to it, and the little figure was heavier than he would have thought it should be. Looking back down, he reflected that he was (understandably) out of touch with the world of dolls; he hadn't thought they made the faces this nicely detailed, either. Really, for a toy, it was rather attractive. It seemed old, somehow, too, for all it was in such good shape. Why and how such a thing should be here he couldn't guess, but surely this was someone's collector's item abandoned by accident.

Despite feeling a little foolish, Heero couldn't bring himself to set it down once he'd reached this conclusion. If he put it back, it would just get ruined, and it was already so forlorn... Besides, it was undoubtedly worth something to someone, even if that was just someone on ebay; he might as well try to locate its owner. Or sell it. He could let the businesses in the immediate area know he'd found it, in case someone came asking, and if that didn't lead anywhere he could check online to see how much it might be worth.

He didn't want to put a dirty, wet doll in his briefcase, but neither did he much want to be seen carrying it -- he wasn't sure how his co-workers would react to the sight, but he was certain it would be annoying. So he held it down against his leg as he hurried on into the parking lot, trying to hide it as best he could with one hand and feeling its long, matted hair brushing him as he walked.

Mentally reviewing the contents of his refrigerator and kitchen cupboards and trying to decide whether or not to stop at the grocery store on the way home, he largely forgot about the doll as he drove. But once he removed his briefcase from on top of it on reaching his apartment (having decided to skip shopping today), there it was staring up at him with wide eyes and a vague smile. Sardonically he shook his head and carried it inside.

The kitchen sink under running water seemed a good place for it to wait while Heero put his work things away and changed clothing, and once he came back into the kitchen he poured some dish soap over it with a lavish hand. It looked better already. After double-checking that his mental fridge inventory was correct, he returned his full attention to the doll again. Keeping it under the tap, he worked the soap off of the plastic and out of the tangled hair, then turned the water off and held it out for inspection.

No, it didn't look bad at all. The face was remarkably nice, actually, for something that small, and the hair was soft and didn't feel much like plastic. Hadn't they made dolls' hair out of real human hair in some previous decade? This hair felt real, which was a little disconcerting but probably increased the value of the piece. The plastic genitalia was strange too; Heero wondered if this might not have been designed as some kind of gag gift. After a moment of thought, he pulled a paper towel from the roll behind the sink, folded it in half, and wrapped it around the doll's waist, tucking the upper fold beneath the lower so it would stay. Studying the effect, he wondered if this was what little girls felt like when they dressed their dolls.

Again he shook his head. "So what am I going to do with you?" he murmured.

"You could start by combing my hair."

Heero dropped -- or, rather, _threw_ the doll into the sink, jumping back with a startled noise. That thing had just... that thing had really just...

  
[Art by Link Worshiper](http://link_worshiper.livejournal.com/)

"Just a suggestion," said the doll's small voice, echoing slightly against the metal of the sink.

After his initial surprise, Heero didn't quite know what to think. He moved forward and stared down at the doll, which now lay on its face partially hidden by this morning's cereal bowl; the paper towel skirt had come askew, so a pair of plastic buttocks, half-hidden by clinging wet hair, was all Heero could actually see. Even as he looked, though, it commented further, "I hope you didn't faint. I hate it when they faint."

"I'm sure the audience likes it, though," Heero murmured as he reached into the sink somewhat tentatively and drew the doll out again. This time he pulled the paper towel off completely and began a minute examination of the plastic body. He was looking for the camera.

"You know," said the doll calmly as Heero turned it over and over, "this is just one of the horrible effects of reality TV. A talking doll never gets _believed_ anymore; it's always, 'All right, where's the audience?'"

"Yes, that _is_ one of the _biggest_ horrible effects of reality TV," Heero replied dryly. "It happens all the time." No feature on the doll's body seemed to resemble camera, speaker, or microphone, but surely the unusual heaviness of the thing was explained by their presence _somewhere_.

The doll laughed. "OK, mostly I just hate reality TV," it admitted. "And it _does_ make it difficult to get anyone to believe that the doll in their hand is really talking to them on its own."

By this point Heero had turned it to face him once again, and could swear that the little lips were actually moving -- stiffly, as one might expect one's lips to move if one were made of plastic, but moving nonetheless. "Who would _ever_ believe that?" he wondered. He thought the camera was probably focused through the eyes, since that made a certain sort of sense, and was peering closely at them trying to find any sign of it. They were nicely-painted eyes, well-detailed and an attractive shade of indigo, and, as far as he could tell, not cameras. They didn't even appear to be transparent.

"Children sometimes do," the doll said in a tone that implied he would have been shrugging had his shoulders contained the necessary muscles. Or... any muscles. His voice, though fairly quiet, didn't sound either recorded or transmitted; communication technology really had come a long way.

"I'm not a child," Heero said flatly. Perhaps if he removed one of the limbs...

"No, you're a big, strong, handsome _man_ who's going to be nice to little helpless me," the doll cajoled absurdly. Then it went on in a more practical tone, "Also you're... wasting your time trying to pull my leg off. I don't come apart."

Ceasing his attempt to dismember the doll, Heero just stared at it with a raised brow. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Of course." Its lips were definitely moving.

"If this _is_ one of those _Punk'd_-style shows, I have to say I don't think much of this premise."

"I dunno; I think it might work pretty well." Here was that 'shrug' tone again. "Too bad it's _not_ a show; I think being a TV star would make being a doll suck less. I could get one of those luxury Barbie houses and a little convertible and everything."

"Well, it's time for this doll to go back to the gutter he came from. I _was_ going to try to find your owner, or maybe sell you on ebay, but I think you'll do OK on your own."

"Thanks for the bath, at least," the doll sighed. Pensively, softly, it added, "I wonder how much I'd go for on ebay these days..."


	3. Part 2

In response to Heero's somewhat distracted look as he answered his door, Quatre remarked, "I just talked to you a few hours ago. You didn't already forget I was coming over, did you?"

"No, I didn't," replied Heero almost absently, stepping back to allow Quatre into the entry and closing the door behind him.

"Well, what's wrong?" Quatre persisted.

Heero frowned. "I guess I'll show you."

He gestured to the kitchen, which was set apart from the rest of the living/dining room only in that it had linoleum rather than carpet, and which lay immediately to the left of the entry. Quatre set down his shopping bag and backpack and immediately reached for the strange object on the counter. Heero stood aside in silence; evidently this was exactly what he'd planned on showing.

  
[Art by Link Worshiper](http://link_worshiper.livejournal.com/)

As Quatre examined the doll quizzically, Heero gave one of his usual unhelpful explanations. "I found it in the gutter outside work." After an almost expectant pause, he went on slowly,"I thought I might try to find its owner." Again he paused, as if waiting for Quatre to interrupt, then finally said, "Or see if it's valuable enough to sell it online or something."

At last the apparently hoped-for interjection came, though not from Quatre: "I think it's pretty obvious," said the doll, "that I'm a 'he,' not an 'it.'"

Quatre dropped the doll and stepped back, startled and staring. Its _lips_ had _moved_.

"Yeah," said Heero darkly. Slowly the doll, which had landed face-down on the counter, moved its unbending plastic arms and righted itself stiffly, ending up in a sitting position with its legs straight out, facing them. At Quatre's side Heero shifted uncomfortably and muttered, "Well, I haven't seen it do _that_."

"_He_," the doll insisted. "Surely you noticed the giant plastic penis."

"'Giant?'" wondered Heero with a raised brow.

At the same moment Quatre speculated, "Is this some kind of reality TV stunt?"

The doll sighed.

"_He_\--" Heero emphasized the pronoun-- "claims it's not. I can't find any cameras or microphones or anything."

"But they have to be there somewhere." Quatre took up the doll again, straightening its legs out and examining it once more, this time with the aim of detecting hidden electronic devices. The plastic penis _was_ rather large, proportionally speaking; obviously this was some kind of joke. Quatre smoothed the long brown hair away from the doll's face and looked closely at the latter. "Why is he wet?"

It was the doll rather than Heero that answered. "He gave me a bath. He rubbed me all over. It was _niiice_."

Assuming the licentious tone was part of the joke, Quatre simply shook his head and kept looking for the camera. Heero, however, seemed prompted to reply. "Yes, I'm sure all those plastic nerves of yours enjoyed it."

The doll laughed regretfully. "You caught me. I can't feel a damn thing. I'm aware that he's turning me over and over -- you're looking for cameras, aren't you? -- but I can't really feel it. Someday maybe I'll get used to that."

So forlorn was the complaint that Quatre had to laugh. "You're pretty convincing!"

Plastic lips stretched past what Quatre would have thought their limit must be into what might be called a grin. "Thanks. It's a side effect of being real."

"Real _what_?" Heero wondered.

"I'm not inclined to tell," the doll replied a little haughtily. "You're just going to throw me back into the gutter."

"I'm not going to throw you back into the gutter." At Heero's impatient tone Quatre had to restrain a laugh; sometimes the most unexpected things could get Heero involved and worked up.

"No," Quatre agreed pleasantly. "If technology really _has_ come far enough for dolls to have conversations with people, you've got to be pretty valuable. And if you're just a transmitter for somebody who's secretly taping us, then _somebody_'s in violation of certain privacy laws."

"Oh, nicely done," the doll commended him. Heero's sharp nod seemed to indicate he felt much the same.

"Anyway," Quatre went on lightly, "the game's going to start..." He looked down at the doll. "I don't suppose you're a college basketball fan?"

"For you, I could be," said the doll with a wink -- an actual wink, though the examination of him that Quatre had conducted thus far wouldn't have led him to guess he had mobile eyelids.

Quatre shook his head skeptically. "Heero," he wondered, glancing up at his friend, "what have you gotten us into?"


	4. Part 3

"I've watched a lot of TV in my time," the doll was saying as Heero propped him up against the lamp on the end table beside the sofa in front of the television, "-- and by that I mean more TV than anyone should _ever_ watch in a single lifetime -- but not much basketball." The propping took longer than Heero had expected, since the paper towel skirt, which he'd replaced, didn't want to behave. 

"What kind of TV do you prefer?" Apparently Quatre had decided to play along. 

Heero, who hadn't decided anything yet, rolled his eyes. 

"I like sci-fi," the doll stated. "I used to watch that channel all day at my last house. The girl would leave me where I could see the TV, and the remote next to me where I could reach it, when she went to school; I just had to make sure to turn the TV off if her mom came into the room!" 

"'The girl?'" Quatre echoed curiously. 

"Yeah, my last kid; the last person who was taking care of me." With a disconcerting swiveling motion, the doll shook his head. "She liked to dress me up, and she liked to alter the clothes she had for me. She'd put sequins on them and stripes with markers and stuff like that -- creative little kid. The problem was that she'd take off my clothing to do something to it, and then forget to put it back on me, so I'd be laying around naked. 

"She was a little too young to appreciate my fine physique... she just forgot. But her mom hated finding me around naked all the time. I didn't talk to the mom, because she was touchy and would have freaked out, so she didn't know why I'm so detailed in certain areas, and she didn't like it. She told the kid that if she found me somewhere naked one more time, she was taking me to Goodwill. Well, guess what happened." 

Quatre was standing beside the table now, looking down at the doll in silent fascination. Heero found that he too was staring, inordinately interested in the narrative. 

The doll wrapped up his story with, "So I have no idea what's been happening on _Dr. Who_ lately, and it's driving me crazy." 

"_Very_ convincing," Quatre murmured, shaking his head. "Somebody's done a really good job on this." 

Heero nodded. "How did you supposedly get from Goodwill to the gutter?" he asked the doll as Quatre turned on the TV and settled onto the couch beside him. 

"Oh... well..." The doll seemed a little annoyed, though whether at Heero's choice of words or what he was about to relate Heero wasn't sure. "I always try talking to the person who gets ahold of me, but it doesn't always work very well. They all think I'm a reality TV thing or some kind of walkie-talkie, like you guys do. I usually change hands a bunch of times before I end up anywhere I can stay for a while. Some woman buys me and then throws me out for the usual reasons... some kid she's babysitting picks me out of the garbage, tries to hide me from her mom on the way home, and drops me... some dog chews on me and carries me around... dogs _love_ to chew on me... sometimes it goes on for days and days." 

"How long do you usually stay somewhere?" Having found the channel, Quatre was now digging through his shopping bag and pulling out cheese dip and chips. 

"It varies," said the doll in his 'shrug' tone. "Days, months, years... depends on how long it takes people to decide I'm an unhealthy figment of their imaginations and get rid of me." 

The sincerity in Quatre's tone as he replied, "Oh, I see," struck Heero as rather worrisome. Quatre wasn't necessarily gullible, but he _was_ kind-hearted almost to a fault, and it might be problematic if he started believing this weirdness, even just a little, simply because it seemed so pathetic. 

"All right, enough about the doll," Heero commanded stonily. 

"Duo," said the doll. 

"What?" 

"That's my name. Duo Maxwell." 

"Not Ken?" wondered Heero dryly, having eventually remembered the name of Barbie's boyfriend. 

"Ken's got nothing on me," the doll -- Duo -- grinned. "Did you ever see a well-hung Ken doll?" 

"Well, I'm sorry we're not watching _Dr. Who_," Quatre broke in, addressing Duo, "but maybe you'll enjoy the basketball game." It was a pointed reminder that the latter was starting. 

"Oh, don't worry about it," the doll replied, waving one arm stiffly up and down. "Just explain the rules and I'll be fine." 

Paying full attention to basketball with a talking doll on the end table was something of a challenge. Duo -- or, more accurately, whoever was controlling the doll -- was a quick learner: it only took a couple of commercial break lectures on the rules and a few comments about events during the game to get him just as involved as they were, and he readily joined in cheering on the team they were supporting... but that was only natural for someone trying to win their trust in order to further the practical joke or whatever this was. 

"That was great!" he was saying enthusiastically once it was over. "It's too bad I've never watched basketball before! There was one guy I watched a lot of football with a couple of years ago, but he wasn't a basketball fan." 

"Did he throw you away too?" Quatre wondered. 

"He Goodwilled me," replied Duo a little bitterly. "You know I fucking hate Goodwill? Yeah, his girlfriend thought it was weird how he kept an anatomically-correct _man doll_ around, and he didn't want to tell her that I talked because he was afraid she'd think he was crazy. I could have just talked to _her_, but he thought it wasn't a good idea, so he just got rid of me." 

"It makes sense, I'm afraid," Quatre said apologetically. 

Heero nodded. 

"Well..." Duo swiveled his plastic head toward them, his tone thoughtful. "I know you two still don't believe me, but--" 

"Believe what, exactly?" Heero broke in. "Are you inclined to tell yet?" 

"That I have no cameras or microphones in me... nobody's talking through me or recording you... and I'm not a piece of advanced technology designed to have conversations with bored little girls while they dress me up." 

"All right," said the skeptical Heero. "Then what supposedly are you?" 

Seriously Duo replied, "I'm a human. Or I was. These days I'm just a creepy doll. But I'm _supposed_ to be human. See, I'm under a curse."


	5. Part 4

  


Quatre tried his hardest, his very hardest, but he simply couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. "You're _what_?" 

The doll just shook his head. 

"Everything sounded really good up until that part." With an effort, Quatre got control of himself again. "Seriously, I'd change it; say you're alien technology stranded on Earth or something. That would fit better with you liking sci-fi shows anyway." 

"The shows I like have nothing to do with the fact that I'm a doll," Duo protested. "Besides, you wouldn't believe the alien technology thing either, so why not just tell the truth?" 

Heero was actually smirking a bit at this conversation. "We might come closer to believing that, though." 

"Why is science fiction always so much more plausible to people than fantasy?" complained Duo. "Why are robots who can have intelligent conversations more believable than curses?" 

"Because we've made progress toward--" Heero began. 

Quatre put a hand on his shoulder. "Debating the psychological impact of technological advancement is pointless right now." 

So Heero asked a question instead. "How did you get..." The rueful half-smile he'd adopted in response to Quatre's admonition changed to another skeptical look. "...cursed?" 

"I'm not even really sure," Duo replied. "My friend and I'd been playing around with magic for a while, but neither of us was very good at it. We had an argument, and I heard him starting a spell... _some_ kind of spell, but he was talking real quietly... but I didn't think he would do something like this to me. Hell, I didn't think he _could_ do something like this! We never had this kind of power..." 

"Well, that's convenient," Quatre said a little sarcastically, and began counting off points on his fingers. "Somebody _else_ cast the spell, so you don't know exactly what he did... It's something stronger than you thought you guys were capable of, so not something you can reverse on your own... I bet you're going to claim you can't do spells as a doll anyway... and you've probably lost track of your friend... am I right?" 

Duo tilted his plastic chin up in a motion that made his entire head swivel backwards. "No, I _can't_ cast spells as a doll," he said a bit snappishly. "And my friend is long dead, since he was born in 1898." 

Heero snorted. "This keeps getting better." 

The doll seemed to take a deep breath, which was faintly audible but in no way visible, and to put some effort into downplaying his irritation. "You don't have to believe me," he said, with admirable calm. "Just don't take me to Goodwill." 

With a thoughtful sidelong smile at his friend, Quatre remarked to Heero, "I think we know how to keep him in line now, don't you? Just threaten to Goodwill him, and he'll probably do anything we ask." 

"What on earth would we ask him to do?" Heero was giving Quatre a dark look, almost accusing, and Quatre realized immediately what the problem was. 

"Heero, I don't _believe_ him," he said sternly. 

Heero's expression seemed to ask, _"Are you sure?"_ and Quatre's in return was almost a glare. Heero really was getting worked up about this. 

"Well, my flight leaves at 7:50," Quatre said next, turning away and changing the subject; "I'm going to go take a shower." He was a little surprised at his own tone of voice -- it seemed to insert an _"I give up"_ into his statement somewhere. There really was little more of use, he felt, to be gotten out of the doll (though probably a good deal more of _interest_), and Heero was evidently in a strange state of mind. 

It was reluctantly, however, that he rose from the couch and made his way toward the hall. Only the awareness that he didn't want to be either dirty or tired at tomorrow's meeting induced him to abandon such a fascinating scene in progress. He did turn again at the entry to the hallway, though, and look back to where Heero was still pensively staring down at Duo. "Good luck with him..."


	6. Part 5

  


"So I'm a little confused," Duo was saying after Quatre had gone. "Is he or is he not your roommate? He knocked on the door earlier and you had to let him in, but now he's taking a shower here?" 

"He's not." Heero wondered why the doll cared. "I mean he's not my roommate," he clarified. "But he lives out east past the edge of town, and we're closer to the airport here; he usually stays the night when he has a flight the next day." 

"Ohhhhhh," said Duo in an exaggerated tone of understanding. "Where is he flying to?" 

Heero's cool answer was, "None of your business." 

"Fine, fine," Duo said breezily. "Where are _you_ going?" For Heero had stood. 

"None of your business," Heero repeated, moving toward the hall as Quatre had. Also as Quatre had, he paused in the doorway and glanced back. He couldn't help thinking that, whatever kind of hoax this was, Duo did look rather lonely and pathetic sitting there on the end table, stiff and unmoving in his paper towel skirt. Heero watched him for a moment, a frown growing on his face as much in response to his strange feelings at the sight as to the sight itself. Then, returning to the couch, he found the remote and turned on the TV again, this time to Syfy. 

"Oh!" came Duo's surprised voice from his left. "Thanks!" 

Heero, feeling a little stupid, did not reply. 

Resultant upon a greater demand and therefore a higher price for one-bedroom apartments in the complex just when he'd been looking, Heero lived in a two-bedroom. The second room did hold a bed, and did come in useful when Quatre spent the night here, but its primary purpose was to house Heero's computer desk and bookshelf. So while Quatre was in the shower and the doll was watching television, Heero got on the internet. 

Typing 'talking doll' into Google made him feel even stupider than leaving the TV on said talking doll's favorite channel as if he really thought a piece of plastic (and presumably electronics) was capable of a preference. The search results were far from pretty, and even farther from useful. The things little girls would play with... 

The things _grown men_ would play with... 

He turned 'safe search' on and tried again. 

The creepiness of the results didn't really diminish with the sex toys removed from the lineup, nor did he find anything useful in the fifteen pages he had the patience to glance over. Neither did adding terms like 'hoax' or 'reality TV' or any clever combination of quotation marks call up anything that seemed at all _similar_ to this situation, let alone _related_. '"Duo Maxwell" "cursed doll"' gave him no results at all. Not that he'd expected any; they (whoever they were) undoubtedly had the doll give a different name to each person it attempted to trick, for this very reason. 

Frustrated and judging by the cessation of the bathroom fan that Quatre would soon want the room, Heero shut down the computer. 

Duo was watching something involving a psychic couple and an albino trying to stop a clan war among people with weird hair, but how much he was enjoying it was anybody's guess. The design of his face seemed well-suited for emotional display, Heero thought, and it was unfortunate -- and a little uncanny -- to see it so stiff and dispassionate. 

Then he shook his own head vigorously. He shouldn't have been so quick to judge Quatre earlier, when here he was thinking things like this. Duo was not a _person_, for god's sake. He was either an expensive toy or a conduit for some prankster's misplaced sense of entertainment. 

"Something wrong?" Duo wondered, his head swiveled a good forty degrees past disconcerting to glance at Heero. 

Instead of answering the question, Heero requested the identity of the rather stupid-looking show Duo was watching. This proved not to be the best idea, as it led to a conversation about the series and the broader topic of science fiction and its typical follies. And with a piece of plastic he'd found in a gutter and was already having a difficult time dismissing as the joke part of him was still certain it must be, Heero really had no desire to be enjoying any discussion quite this much.


	7. Part 6

  


Business important enough to force a meeting to convene on a Saturday would always be sufficient to drive just about anything else from Quatre's head, so he'd mostly forgotten about the talking doll. However, the moment he got out of the airport and into his car (for the second time that day) and his cell informed him that he had missed calls and voicemail, he remembered everything. 

The message was from a friend, inviting him out this evening, and Quatre deleted it without even listening all the way through. The other caller, as usual, hadn't bothered leaving a message, and Quatre immediately returned the call. 

"Are you coming back over here or going straight home?" Heero wanted to know. 

Quatre laughed, his mind again full of the enthusiastic interest Duo had inspired yesterday evening. As if he would go home at this point! "Have you figured out that doll yet?" he asked eagerly. Then, realizing he hadn't answered the question, appended, "I'm definitely going there." 

"No," Heero answered Quatre's badly-placed query. "Not exactly. But I've got something to show you." 

"I'm just getting on the highway," Quatre informed him. "I'll see you in about fifteen minutes." And the rest of his trip to Heero's apartment was conducted in mighty impatience. 

"How was your meeting?" Heero greeted him at the door when Quatre arrived. 

"I think we may have things straightened out over there," answered Quatre. "But I can't think about that right now; what did you want to show me?" 

Wordlessly Heero gestured him to follow. 

As they moved through the living room, Duo spoke up from where he still sat on the end table wrapped in a paper towel. "Hey, Quatre." He was watching TV. At least, Quatre assumed he was watching; it was difficult to tell. 

"Hi." It felt strange to be casually greeted by what was essentially a Ken doll, and even stranger to return the greeting as if it were perfectly normal. 

Heero didn't stop, but led Quatre through to the second bedroom, where he pointed at the chair that stood out from the desk. "Last night I tried searching for talking dolls, and didn't find anything," he stated as Quatre took the seat as instructed. "But look at what I found today." 

He'd left a number of sites open in multiple tabs, in addition to a search engine, and dutifully Quatre rifled through them. 

"Magic?" he wondered. Heero had searched for magic on the internet? _Heero Yuy_ had looked up sites about _magic_? 

Glancing over one after another, Quatre grew more and more interested and surprised. Because these weren't the type of sites he would have expected on the subject -- badly-constructed personal pages hosted by giant, disreputable free servers rattling on with poor syntax about cosmic mysteries in dark blue text on starry black backgrounds. These were articles and journals and archives such as he might have found if he'd searched for knitting or golfing or sudoku or a thousand other hobbies, and they looked every bit as legitimate. 

"'Magical cooking requires less kitchen space,'" he read aloud. "'The fallacy of magic/computer incompatibility.' 'Magical security systems: cheaper than traditional alarm systems, but are they as effective?' 'How common artifacts form and what they're used for.' Well." 

"Yeah," Heero said. 

Still staring at the screen, Quatre sat back in the chair and ran his hands through his hair. "Well," he said again. "Either this is the biggest and most dedicated collection of nerds in the world, or magic is the worst-kept secret of the twenty-first century." 

"Yeah." 

Quatre continued to gaze almost absently at the list of 'common artifacts,' trying to decide how he felt about this, while Heero stood behind him without moving or speaking. 

Finally Heero said, "I still don't know that I believe him." 

Slowly Quatre shook his head. "Me neither. But this certainly is... interesting." 

"Yeah," Heero said a third time. Another few moments passed in silence before he spoke again. "Let me show you one more thing." 

Quatre relinquished the chair and watched as Heero pulled up something he'd evidently bookmarked earlier. Without a word he stood again and gestured Quatre to resume the seat and look. 

"'Magical Help Forum,'" Quatre read. Looking past the moderators' note advising new members to read the rules and check the 'Frequently Miscast Spells' list before posting, he clicked on the first thread. 

_Help!_ the post said. _My dog wouldnt stop barking at the guy fixing our sprinklers so I cast a silence on him and now I can't get it off!! He tries to bark or whine and no sound comes out! I tried a spell to clear out other spells, and one of those 'Put this back to how it was a certain point spells, even just a spell to make things louder, but nothing works, what am I doing wrong?_

The first reply read, _do u use artifacts?_ The second requested the exact wording of all the spells attempted by the poster so far. The third remarked, _Sounds like artifact interference to me_. 

Quatre didn't read any farther, but rather turned to look at Heero again. The latter was watching with arms folded and a dark, pensive expression; Quatre knew exactly what he was thinking. "It couldn't hurt," he agreed with the unspoken sentiment. 

They switched places again, since Heero seemed even more interested than he professed in writing the post. He certainly was getting into this; Quatre didn't think Heero had ever posted anything in an online forum in his life. Actually, he wouldn't have thought there was anything in the world that could ever induce Heero to post anything in an online forum. Quatre leaned over his shoulder, watching as he went about setting up a new account. 

"Screen name?" Heero prompted. 

"Just shove some random words together," Quatre shrugged, "and throw some numbers on it." He started listing unrelated words as they came to mind. "Space... heart... wing... zero..." 

Heero muttered something about not wanting to spell out a number and then put digits after it, and entered 'spaceheart4321.' 

Quatre nodded his approval. "Better check the 'Frequently Miscast Spells' list before you post." 

"I looked at it earlier," Heero replied, starting a new post. "It's all domestic stuff: hair-dyeing and clothes-washing and..." He trailed off as he began typing. 

_Have found talking doll that claims to be cursed human from 1800's. Please advise._

"I think you're going to have to give more details than that," laughed Quatre. 

Heero frowned, and mumbled, "I feel like an idiot going into detail." 

"Nobody knows who you are," Quatre reminded him. "If this is for real, they'll want the details anyway... and if it's all a joke, they'll just think you have a great imagination." 

A little reluctantly, Heero nodded and began rewriting his message. This time, with some prodding from Quatre, he managed to include everything relevant besides names and places -- including the specifics of Duo's story and their own skepticism on the subject. Even after proofreading it twice, though, he hit the 'post' button rather hesitantly. 

Quatre stood straight, looking around at the door and listening to the sound of the television from the next room. "I guess that's all there is to be done right now," he said. 

Heero nodded slowly; as he rose from the desk, his eyes seemed locked on the monitor. Quatre noticed this was the only part of the computer he turned off before moving into the hall. 

They sat on the couch in the living room for approximately two minutes, not quite long enough to ascertain what Duo was watching, before Heero stirred and made a movement as if to rise. 

Once again Quatre knew exactly what he was thinking. Smiling and putting out a hand to stop him he said, "Give people a chance to respond." Heero subsided. 

"What are you two up to?" Duo wondered. As Heero opened his mouth to reply he added hastily, "I know, I know, none of my business. But you never realize the value of being able to just get up and walk into another room whenever you want until you lose it." 

Maybe Heero was right; maybe Quatre was starting to believe all of this. Whatever the case, he found himself far less inclined to laugh at this just complaint than he would have been yesterday.


	8. Part 7

Quatre had been right about giving people time to reply, but Heero realized now that he shouldn't have waited quite so long. He'd returned to the message board the next morning just a little too eager, too hopeful, after that interval, as if expecting a set of detailed, specific answers waiting for him in the replies -- either a general consensus that this must be a hoax, or... well, nothing else, really. What else could they possibly have said? 

A lot of nonsense about artifacts, that was what. 

Heero wasn't even really sure what an artifact _was_ in this context, but, according to just about everyone on this forum, no single person could have cast a spell this effective and long-lasting without at least one. 

_Can you get more details from him about the type of magic his friend used?_ one person asked. _And what kinds of artifacts he used?_

_I once turned half my skin into leather mixing three artifacts by accident,_ another supplied, _and those were just the usual household arties. I can see someome doing something like this if he had something bigger._

A third briefly wondered, _What divinations have you tried on him?_ proving immediately that they hadn't actually read the original post as Heero had specifically mentioned that he and his friend had no knowledge of magic themselves. 

Not that everyone took the reputed curse seriously. _Sounds like a trick to me,_ said one skeptic. _I mean, like people said above, there's no way to cast a spell like that especially for so long without a couple of people working on it AND probably a strong arti or two. You should check that thing again for wires and speakers._

Another didn't even take the _post_ seriously. _Oh great, another troll. You people who come around here making s*** up really ought to look up how magic actually works before you come posting this s***. Better yet, find something better to do. Like diaf._

This last made Heero rather angry, and served as a reminder of why he didn't hang out online, but his overall mood was one of frustration. He was convinced by now that most of the people on this forum believed in magic and had at least a general knowledge of how it supposedly worked. But what the hell were these artifacts they were all going on about? 

He found he was too irritated to look this up, or to answer any of their questions at the moment -- even if he decided he was going to in any case, which he might not. After all, though he hadn't gotten any terribly useful responses, what he _had_ gotten pointed rather decidedly to the original theory that Duo was full of shit. Or perhaps s***. Even if all these people weren't roleplaying or crazy and magic _did_ exist, they seemed to agree that what Duo had described was impossible -- which was exactly what Heero had believed all along. 

At the end of the hall he paused, once again looking at the strange little figure on the end table in the living room. The television had probably, in the last two days, aired the Syfy channel for longer than it had in the last two years. 

What if it _wasn't_ impossible? What if Duo really _was_ a -- he could barely entertain the thought without shaking his head -- human cursed to live forever as a Barbie doll? 

Heero didn't even feel like thinking about that. 

"Doesn't it get boring?" he wondered with an effort, moving forward into the room, determined to distract himself. He wished Quatre hadn't gone home and left him here alone with Duo. 

"Star Trek?" the doll replied in a shocked tone. "Never!" 

Heero sat down at the end of the couch nearest the little table, and examined the doll. Quatre the soft-hearted had evidently been more moved by Duo's complaints than Heero had, and had combed and braided his hair at some point. That was just like Quatre. Heero still couldn't quite figure out whether his friend was slipping and really believing Duo's nonsense, or just being nice, the way he usually did, to anyone and everyone. 

"I mean watching TV all day and night," Heero said at last. 

"_Oh_, yes." Duo nodded his stiff nod. "It's better than nothing, but, god, it gets old. It gets to the point sometimes where I even prefer having tea parties with Barbie and then having to pretend to make out with her." 

Repressing a laugh Heero said in the most serious tone he could command, "Should I go out and buy a Barbie for you, then?" 

"I'd like to see you do that," Duo replied. "In fact, we could make a date out of it: dinner, a movie, and Toys'R'Us." 

"A sci-fi movie, I assume." 

"Definitely. Is _Avatar_ still in theaters? I wanted to see that." 

"It may still be at the cheap-- wait. You're a doll. Why do you need a theater when my TV is like a big screen to you?" 

"So rent it for me. I like that kind of date better anyway." 

"I am not dating you," Heero said flatly, though he was honestly more amused than anything else. 

"That's OK," replied Duo in his 'shrug' tone. "You can just take me straight to bed." 

One of Heero's brows went down and the other up. The result was a sort of skeptical scowl. "Maybe if you're a really good boy. Doll." 

Duo laughed.


	9. Part 8

  


Quatre was lucky he had his own office; otherwise he would have been continually looking over his shoulder in some embarrassment when the very first thing he did on Monday was to email Heero about the doll. He couldn't imagine how Heero -- whose 'private cubicle' on the sales floor lived up to its name only by having walls six inches higher than the other cubicles on the sales floor -- was going to get through the morning. 

Instead of answering Quatre's question about whether he'd learned anything useful from the people on the message board, Heero responded simply with a link to the thread. The promptness of his reply made Quatre laugh; that Heero had the URL ready without having to go looking for the place meant he'd come to work fully intending to check on the answers to his question during his shift. 

A situation such as this, Quatre thought, was a perfectly viable excuse for browsing an online forum to the exclusion of all other work before he really got going on a slow Monday morning. Besides, it wasn't as if he was paid by the hour... or his father didn't own the company or anything. And this artifact stuff seemed so interesting. 

He was having a rather difficult time grasping exactly what artifacts _were_ in this context, and hadn't bothered to look it up, but the general idea he got made it clear that they were essential to the spells these people supposedly cast on a daily basis -- and probably the cause of Duo's problem, assuming Duo wasn't lying. Unfortunately, though so far there was a good deal of back-and-forth in the lengthening forum thread as to whether or not the cursed doll predicament was possible, there were no concrete suggestions as to how to deal with it if it was. 

Between his legitimate items of business, Quatre spent the day emailing Heero. The latter seemed reluctant to request the further information the magic people wanted from Duo, and therefore needed to be prodded -- and beyond that, the topic was so interesting that they just couldn't stop discussing it even when there was really very little to be said. They were both keeping a constant eye on the forum, too, and had to confer on every new post added to the thread; but by the end of the day they hadn't made any significant progress. 

That Heero was exceptionally emotionally invested in this was the only aspect of the situation that seemed certain to Quatre. Whether or not magic existed, whether or not the people on the message board really practiced it, whether or not Duo was what he said he was, Heero was taking more than just entertainment from all of this. Why this might be, Quatre wasn't sure (though he planned on finding out), but it was undoubtedly the reason for the restless irritation Heero evinced as he sat in Quatre's office after his own shift was over, waiting for his friend. 

"Let's go get dinner," Quatre said at last, stretching so that his chair creaked. 

Heero nodded and rose wordlessly. 

"And then go interrogate that doll," added Quatre pointedly. 

Heero frowned, but didn't protest. Neither did he object to the suggestion that he drive, nor even ask why, which was the last proof Quatre needed of his level of distraction. Quatre _always_ drove when they took one car somewhere, simply because he made more money than Heero did (well, and also because Heero's car was something of an ancient wreck). 

"All right," Quatre demanded as soon as they were underway, "time to come clean. I know this is all very interesting, but I think _you're_ getting more into it than really makes sense." 

As Heero was driving, he couldn't turn and give Quatre a look of some kind -- at least not for longer than a few seconds -- and therefore had to answer verbally, which was part of the reason Quatre had suggested this arrangement. But, "I am not," was all he said. 

"Yes, you are," Quatre insisted. "You're totally wrapped up in this, more than I think I've ever seen you in anything. Did you get _any_ work done today?" 

"Of course I did." Heero sounded just the tiniest bit guilty, though. 

"Of course you did," Quatre echoed in a soothing tone. "Whenever you weren't busy obsessing over that magical message board." 

"I'm not 'obsessing,'" Heero protested. "You said it yourself: he's just really interesting. I want to find out what's true and what isn't." 

"So you're starting to believe in magic!" Quatre concluded, amused. 

"No. We don't have enough information yet to make a positive statement." 

Quatre laughed. "The fact that you admit there even _is_ information that might allow us to believe at some point shows just how into this you are." 

"I'm surprised _you're_ not," Heero replied, changing tactics with unusual warmth (which, Quatre thought, just helped to prove his point). "A talking doll who might actually be human? Magic might actually exist?" 

With a shrug Quatre said, "I've already admitted it's interesting. I just think you're a lot more interested than I am." 

Heero snorted. "All the different interesting aspects of this situation, and none of them are enough to get you _really_ interested." 

"I think my attitude is more logical than yours," insisted Quatre. He would have continued, but just at that moment the precise wording of Heero's earlier statement belatedly struck him: _"**He**'s just really interesting."_ But that couldn't possibly... 

Heero had pulled them into the parking lot of the restaurant they typically preferred after work, and Quatre was still contemplating the odd idea that had occurred to him as they got out of the car. He had only a few more moments to think about it, however. 

They didn't pay any attention whatsoever to the man by the door, just as they would have ignored any other restaurant patron they didn't know. Quatre, in fact, didn't so much as glance at him as they moved past -- that is, until the man reached out a hand and touched Quatre's arm lightly. "Excuse me," he said softly. "Are you two the ones with the talking doll?"


	10. Part 9

Heero whirled on the stranger, excessively perturbed at having the matter mentioned so abruptly by an outsider -- not least because it sounded so absurd. He paused at the sight of the man, however, taken aback by an appearance so odd and an expression so earnest he couldn't help giving him his attention. 

An outdated suit wasn't the only thing strange about the man; there was also an unnatural, unhealthy-looking paleness, almost a _greyness_, to his skin, and an unusual brightness to his eyes that reminded Heero of descriptions he'd heard of certain types of drug addicts. He seemed discomposed, restless, worried, tense -- and at the same time trying very hard to conceal or subdue it. 

Quatre had let his arm fall from where he'd been reaching for the door, and now was examining the stranger alongside Heero. Not quite as willing to be rude to people as Heero was, however, he answered the question. "Yes, that's us." 

The stranger drew in a deep, quiet breath, apparently tensing even further. "Please," he said, "may I talk to you?" He repeated, "Please," with an almost desperate intensity that seemed to coincide exactly with his extreme but repressed agitation. 

Heero glanced at Quatre, who raised his eyebrows in an expression as much _Why not?_ as _What the hell is this?_

"Sure," Heero agreed. "Let's go inside and get a table and talk there." 

The stranger nodded and accompanied them through the door. Heero noticed that his coat had tails. 

Once seated and once soda orders had been placed by Heero and Quatre, the latter two settled into staring at the stranger across the table, waiting for whatever he had to say. 

"I won't waste your time," the man began. "Has this doll you found told you his name?" 

"Yes," Heero nodded. "Duo Maxwell." 

At these words the man seemed to crumple as if invisible strings holding him taut had been abruptly cut. He leaned forward with a trembling sigh, evidently too weak all of a sudden to remain upright, put his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. "My god..." he whispered, then repeated the phrase two or three times at lower and lower volumes. 

For a moment Heero and Quatre could only watch in fascinated pity, but presently Quatre put out a hesitant hand and touched one of the stranger's. "Are you his friend?" he guessed. "The one who cast the spell?" 

The gentleness of Quatre's tone must have been a good choice, for the stranger raised his face with a deep breath. There were tears on his cheeks. "Yes," he replied weakly. "I've been looking for him for eighty-seven years." 

Heero tried to soften his stare, but feared he was failing. "You'll have to forgive me for being a little skeptical of everything you say. You've got to be aware of how crazy this all sounds." 

The man nodded, wiping the moisture from his face. "And you will have to forgive me for not caring whether or not you believe what I say." 

"That sounds fair," Quatre put in quickly. "You look like you could use a drink; what can we order for you?" 

"I..." The man shook his head as if to clear it and get back on track. "I would not mind a glass of wine. Thank you." 

Their waiter had by this time returned, ready to take their dinner order, so the drink was requested along with the meal. Heero assumed either that Quatre was paying for this or that whatever the stranger had to say would be worth buying him alcohol on a split check. 

Another staring silence fell while the man finished getting himself as under control as the situation permitted and the other two simply waited. Heero wasn't even quite sure what he was waiting _for_, but he waited nonetheless. He didn't doubt the man had more to say than simply seeking confirmation of Duo's identity and whereabouts, but whether this would confirm the whole thing as a hoax or continue skirting Heero's full disbelief he was eager to see. 

The wine, which the waiter brought out immediately, seemed to help. It didn't exactly put color into the pale cheeks of the stranger, but a few sips granted him a certain increase in steadiness. When he next spoke, however, it still wasn't to offer explanation or introduction, but, rather, continue questioning the other two. "Is Duo all right?" 

"Other than being a doll?" Heero couldn't refrain from a touch of sarcasm. "He's fine." 

"He isn't... damaged... in any way?" the man wondered. "It's been so long... he's still in one piece?" 

"I couldn't pull his leg off when I tried," Heero shrugged. The man winced. 

"He's not happy about being a doll, if that's what you want to know," Quatre put in quietly. 

The stranger's brows contracted beneath his face-shadowing hair, his unusually bright eyes cast down. "That's only natural," he murmured, in a tone of such helpless misery and guilt that Heero heard Quatre beside him catch his breath. Even Heero, whatever he might or might not believe about this situation, found himself moved to pity. There was no way to reassure the man, however; Duo had barely mentioned him or the exact circumstances of the curse, and Heero hadn't wanted to press the doll on what, if it was true, must be a painful subject. 

Quatre obviously _wished_ to reassure, however, and therefore gave what little information they had that might: "He didn't sound angry when he mentioned you. Even if he was upset with you back then, I'm sure he isn't anymore." 

This did little to clear the unhappiness from the man's face. He took another sip of wine and a deep breath, then said slowly, "I never meant for it to happen at all, and god knows I've been paying for it since." 

"How _did_ it happen?" Heero wondered. This was one of the things he'd been supposed to ask Duo -- the specifics of the scene that had purportedly caused all the trouble back in whatever year forever ago -- which, once again, he hadn't wanted to bring up for fear of bothering the doll. 

"I've never told anyone before." The stranger looked at him a little unsteadily. "You won't believe it." 

"I'd like to hear about it too," Quatre said. 

The man transferred his gaze to Quatre, where it remained for several long seconds. Finally, nodding, he swallowed the last of his wine and began to tell his story.


	11. Part 10

"Duo and I grew up together," the man began. "I don't remember a time when we weren't best friends, until... well, we had been friends since we were children. I had run away from my family, and he was an orphan..." 

Quatre found himself unusually riveted on the stranger's words. Whether this tale was true or whether this was simply a phenomenal actor adding onto the hoax, there was just something so _interesting_ about the man. Heero had marveled that no aspect of this situation was interesting enough to get Quatre _really_ interested; now one seemed to have appeared. 

"We did whatever we could to scrape up money... lived together in one room, shared everything we earned..." In a nearly inaudible tone of nostalgia almost unbearably sad the man added, "We shared everything." 

He shook his head and went on. "We'd always known that magic was real; one of our neighbors when we were young was a fortune teller, and it was something we'd simply always accepted. But it wasn't until years later that it occurred to us to try practicing ourselves. The old woman had died by then, but we managed..." Again he shook his head, this time apparently in self-reproof. "But you don't need to hear all about how we learned magic." 

Quatre thought that he would very much like to hear how they had supposedly learned magic, but agreed that it was tangential to the overall story. 

"By then I had a job at a factory where I made better money than either of us ever had. Duo refused to come work with me; he couldn't stand that kind of repetitive work." The man's tone held a retroactive fondness for his friend, and once again a nostalgia so strong and pathetic it almost seemed too personal for others to be privy to. Quatre suddenly began to wonder what the _precise_ relationship between the two had been. 

"We had enough money, for once; the Great War had ended; and magic kept us entertained. Everything in our lives seemed to be going well." 

Here the man was interrupted by the appearance of food. As their meals were set down in front of them, the waiter promised refills on sodas, and in conjunction with this asked whether the stranger would like another glass of wine. Observing hesitance in the stranger's look, Quatre volunteered, "I believe he would," with a friendly smile at both parties. The waiter took himself off, the stranger thanked Quatre, and the story continued. 

"Late in 1922 I was promoted to general overseer at the factory, and suddenly I was in possession of more money than I'd ever dreamed of having when I was a newsboy on the streets. I thought it was a good thing at first. I believe even Duo thought it was a good thing at first. But it changed things." He fell silent for a moment, pensive. The waiter reappeared just then with his wine; after giving him a nod of thanks and seeing him gone again, the stranger went on. 

"My new salary bought me a place in a higher level of society than I'd ever moved in. It was a different world back then; society wasn't what it is now. I was never much of a society person, but it was entertaining to be asked to parties and luncheons I could never have attended before. But once Duo saw what it was like, he wouldn't have any part of it. He wouldn't move into the new apartment I rented, wouldn't ride in the new car I bought, and, though he was often included in invitations extended to me, he wanted nothing to do with what he called my 'new shit-heel friends.' Until..." 

The man pursed his lips slightly, looking perturbed. "I've forgotten her name," he murmured. "She was what started all of this, and I've forgotten her name." 

"You argued over a _woman_?" Quatre asked. Why this should be so surprising he couldn't guess, but he was definitely startled. 

The stranger nodded. "He only started making himself pleasant to her after _I'd_ shown an interest; it was clear -- to me, at least -- that he wasn't actually interested in her... but he had a gift for making himself pleasant, which you may have noticed." 

Heero had been sitting, stiff and silent, at Quatre's side all this time, and, though he still said nothing, at this point he did nod almost imperceptibly. 

"I confronted him about it," the stranger went on with a sigh, "and accused him of toying with her solely to diminish my chances with her. I accused him of being petty and fake and... I believe my exact words were, 'It's as if you were made of plastic.'" 

With an swift indrawn breath of understanding, half excited and half horrified, Quatre interjected, "And that's why...!" 

The man nodded. "He accused me in return of not caring about him anymore -- not caring about _anything_ anymore, except money and what it could buy me. He believed it, too; he really thought I didn't care about him. My best friend, whom I'd grown up with, who was closer to me than anyone, who knew me better than anyone..." 

An expression of pain took hold of the pale face opposite Quatre, twisting the stranger's handsome features pathetically for several moments before smoothing gradually out again. "I'm not trying to justify what I did," the man insisted quietly, "only what I felt. It upset me so much that he could think that way, I wanted to force him to feel what I felt, to know exactly how much I cared. I thought I could put together a spell that would do that, that would let him share my emotions just for a few moments. But I'd forgotten..." 

"Artifacts?" Heero guessed, speaking for the first time since the story began. 

The man nodded. "You've been paying attention to that message board, I see. Yes, I'd forgotten that I had recently acquired a new artifact, though I didn't know its power yet in any case. Some of my shit-heel friends practiced magic as well, and... but, again, you don't need to know the story of how I came by the artifact. All you really need to know is that it was an extremely powerful one. 

"We were in my apartment at the time, and it was in the room. It twisted my spell into something I could never have wanted, and made it more powerful than anything I could ever have cast... and I was just amateur enough not to realize what was happening. If I'd only realized, I might have stopped it..." Bitterly, quietly he repeated, "I might have stopped it." By now he was on his third glass of wine, and Quatre got the feeling that this entire conversation was a much-needed release for him. After so many years, finally to be unburdening himself... well, assuming it all was true. 

"Duo was standing at the window, leaning on the sill," the stranger went on at last. "When he... when the spell changed him, he fell... he hit the windowsill and fell out... My apartment was on the third floor, and he fell all the way to the ground. I could hardly understand or believe what I'd seen... I thought I'd simply seen him shrink, but the sound he made hitting the windowsill..." He grimaced slightly as he relived the misery and confusion of that scene, and evidently, once again, decided not to go into excessive detail. "I saw him on the ground when I looked out the window, but by the time I got out of the building to the street, he was gone. Someone must have picked him up. After that I... never saw him again." 

"So you--" Horrified as he was at the implications of this, Quatre had to pause until the waiter had taken their plates, promised another glass of wine, and left them in peace. "So you only saw him for a second? You've been looking for him all these years without even being sure what he _looked_ like? Or even if he was still alive?" 

"I knew he hadn't died," the man replied. "I heard him shout as he fell, and he was moving on the sidewalk when I looked down at him. But, yes, I haven't been certain of much." 

Quatre shook his head. "It must have been terrible," he murmured. 

"I've spent my time following any and every possible rumor that might be Duo, and, when there weren't any, trying to master the artifact so that if I did find him I would be able to undo the curse." 

"And can you?" Heero asked, sounding suddenly a good deal more interested than before. 

"I don't know." The stranger fixed them each in turn with a very pointed look. "I would have to see him."


	12. Part 11

"I would have to see him." 

It wasn't exactly a request; it wasn't even a demand; it was a _com_mand. And, whether magic was involved or not, Heero thought it would take a brave man to look into those bizarre eyes and tell him no. At the same time, he couldn't exactly bring himself to tell him yes either. 

"Quatre," he said, rising abruptly, "can we talk?" 

Quatre slid out of the booth after him, but didn't follow until he'd pulled out his wallet and found a card with which to pay the bill. Leaving this on the table, he walked after Heero. 

The latter made his way out of the dining area and into the corridor leading to the bathrooms. "Are you sure you want to leave your debit card sitting on the table with that guy?" was what he said first. 

"What, you think he'll steal it?" Quatre laughed, sounding a little surprised at the question. 

Heero frowned. 

"If he didn't use magic to find us, he must already be an expert at getting information. One message board post, and he shows up two days later? He could probably steal either of our identities without needing my Visa." 

"That isn't exactly comforting," mumbled Heero. 

"Do you think he's dangerous?" 

"I just don't know that I want to invite him to my apartment. He wants to see Duo, but..." 

Quatre stared at him. "But you heard everything he said... he _has_ to see Duo." 

"I heard a good story," Heero agreed darkly, "with absolutely no proof, still. Throughout this whole thing, there hasn't been one single bit of _proof_." 

"But do you at least admit that, if his story _is_ true, he _does_ have to see Duo?" 

"Of course, but how could it possibly be true?" 

"Earlier you didn't seem to think it was so impossible." 

Heero gave a half-angry sigh. "I don't know what to think. Except that it would be stupid to let some stranger into my home on nothing more than some crazy sob-story about magic. A talking doll is one thing, but this..." 

Thoughtfully Quatre gave a brief glance around them. Evidently he was not, as Heero would have been, checking that nobody else was nearby and listening to their insane conversation; rather, he seemed to be deciding whether or not to say something he had in mind. Finally he did. "You know what? I believe him. I don't think he's crazy, and I don't think this is a hoax anymore." 

"I thought so." There was just the tiniest bit of sourness to Heero's tone. "You always _did_ go for the emo type." He probably shouldn't have said that -- at least not like that -- but the symptoms had been unmistakable all through the stranger's story, and now this declaration of belief after less than an hour... 

Quatre's eyes narrowed, but he smiled as he said sweetly, "At least I don't go for the _plastic_ type." 

"What do you mean?" Heero demanded as if he didn't know perfectly well. He felt his face growing warm. 

Quatre's smile was triumphant for just a moment before it opened out into a more real, sympathetic expression. "The bad news for both of us," he said a little forlornly, "is that those two are obviously long-lost..." He shrugged slightly. "Lovers, I guess, is the best word. 'Boyfriends' doesn't seem to fit." 

"You think so?" asked Heero, startled. 

Gesturing impatiently, Quatre didn't expand on the subject. "You have to let him see Duo," he insisted instead. 

Heero ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just don't want to be robbed and murdered," he said. "Is that so unnatural?" 

Quatre let out another surprised laugh, but sobered immediately. "I guess I see your point. I think we can trust the guy, but better safe than sorry." 

Heero nodded. "Maybe we can go get the doll and meet him somewhere." 

"Good idea." 

They stared at each other for a long moment, as if there was more to say and neither could or would be the first to say it, before, with almost simultaneous sighs, they turned to head back into the dining area. 

As Quatre signed the receipt -- the stranger hadn't stolen his debit card and bolted, it turned out -- Heero stared at the man. Still seated, the latter was finishing his glass of wine and gazing blankly at the table. When Quatre was done, Heero simply said, "Come on." 

Outside, as they approached Heero's car -- why had they come in _his_ car, anyway? -- he began to explain the intended plan: that they would go retrieve Duo and meet the stranger somewhere with him, preferably right here or in the vicinity. But, despite Heero's brevity, the man interrupted him before he was halfway finished. 

"You don't trust me. I understand. Would it help if I could prove that everything I've been telling you is true?" 

Heero turned to face him, meeting strange sober eyes with his own hard stare. After a moment he admitted, "Yes, it would." 

The man nodded. Turning to Quatre, who walked by his side, he said, "Please excuse the liberty." And to the extreme surprise of both Heero and Quatre, the stranger put an arm around Quatre's waist and pulled him a half-step closer to himself. Quatre was evidently too startled to break away as the man said something else under his breath; and the next moment, with a slight flash, they had both vanished.


	13. Part 12

  


Quatre had told Heero that he believed the stranger's story, and he'd thought he meant it. Even before, when they only had Duo's word on the matter, Quatre had, if not exactly _believed_, at least been _ready_ to believe. But the truth was that, until this very moment, he hadn't known what it _was_ to believe. 

Dizzy and extremely startled, he was clinging to the stranger with both hands as if he would fall when he released him. Thinking that he actually might, he didn't let go for several moments after it -- whatever it was -- had ended, despite his embarrassment at suddenly finding himself clutching a man he'd just admitted he was attracted to. 

They stood now in the grass in a park that Quatre recognized only after almost a full minute of astonished confusion as being across the street from the restaurant they'd just vacated. Deep shadow cast by a grove of trees, which hid that street from sight, surrounded them, and their advent had startled (besides Quatre) at least two rabbits into bolting. 

Evening had set in, and their current unexpected location was far from any of the street-lights that made the edges of the park glow; as Quatre looked up into the stranger's eyes, however, he thought they caught some inexplicable light source he could not see and reflected it in uncanny green. There seemed to be a strange glow about the man's face, too: a pale, sickly luminance coating his skin like moisture. Oddly, this did nothing to diminish the attractiveness of the face, only increased its pathos somehow. The man smelled not unpleasantly of old books. 

The stranger released him, gently disentangling himself from Quatre's grip, and stepped aside. "Excuse me," he said again. 

Quatre, still almost stunned at what had just happened, could not stop staring at him. It took him some time to find his voice, but when he did he asked, "Can you go _anywhere_ like that?" There was an almost childlike admiration in his tone, to which he wondered how the stranger would react. 

"There are limitations," the man replied simply. "I was ready to bring one of you here; I thought it would be easier to convince you if I took you with me instead of simply vanishing myself." 

"Why me?" wondered Quatre before he could stop himself. 

"You seemed less likely to attack me if I touched you," was the excessively logical answer. 

"Well, I'm convinced," Qutare assured him. 

"Good," the man nodded. "I have to see Duo." 

With the warmth of the man's arm still fading from Quatre's waist, Duo's name was a timely reminder and warning. "Of course," Quatre said. "I'm sure Heero's convinced too; let's go back." 

"Shall I take you back?" the stranger proposed. 

"Yes!" replied Quatre, perhaps with just a touch too much excitement. 

The man didn't seem to notice that Quatre might be flirting with him a little, however, and, stepping forward, again put an arm around him. Quatre tried to catch the words he murmured this time, but they were too unfamiliar and quick to make out. Then, with another flash and that same strange sensation as before, they had relocated from the cool of the park to the concrete of the restaurant parking lot. 

Heero was as startled to see them appear as he had undoubtedly been to see them disappear. He made an inarticulate noise of surprise, and seemed ready to take hold of Quatre and drag him away from the stranger. Restraining himself, however, he merely asked, "What was that?" 

"Magic," replied the man, releasing Quatre. 

Thoughtfully Heero nodded, his look of surprise fading quickly; he'd had their entire absence to get over the bulk of his shock. Quatre speculated that, beyond that, he was reflecting on the implications of what he'd seen: this essentially proved that Duo was a real person, after all. 

Finally Heero looked up from where he'd been pensively staring at nothing, and met the stranger's eyes. "Well, I believe you now," he stated, and actually smiled a little. "So let's go see Duo." 

The stranger seemed to relax a bit. "Thank you," he said quietly. 

"We need to go back to work so I can get my car," Quatre reminded his friend. 

"I'll take you to your car," the stranger said. 

"Really?" Quatre turned toward him eagerly. 

"If it will speed things up." 

"Why not just magic all three of us to my apartment?" wondered Heero, the dryness of his tone clearly a mild reproof directed at Quatre for being frivolous. 

Quatre would have had a good comeback, or at least made a face at him, if the stranger hadn't been present with more important matters to think of. "Because we'll both want our cars in the morning," he replied levelly. "So we'll meet you at home, OK?" 

As Quatre turned again and took a step toward the stranger, he saw Heero shake his head as he agreed. 

Once more the stranger put an arm around Quatre's waist. This time, he leaned close to Quatre and murmured into his ear, "I need you to concentrate on the place we're going to; picture it as clearly as you can." 

Somewhat reluctantly, Quatre closed his eyes, cutting off his view of the stranger's, and imagined the parking lot at work. He felt the man pull him just a little closer, and then, with the same bizarre sensation of momentary weightlessness as before, they were gone.


	14. Part 13

  


Heero reached for the lock on his front door, then let his hand fall. Staring down for a moment at the key he held, he found he couldn't bring himself to open the door just yet. After all, how did you prepare someone for the fact that a friend they'd thought long dead, a friend that had turned them into a doll, was actually alive and guilt-ridden and maybe a trifle weird after all these years, and would soon be here? Especially when you might have just a little bit of a crush on that someone, and the nature of their relationship with their friend wasn't entirely clear to you at the moment? 

How exactly _was_ that man alive, anyway? Heero hadn't asked because he'd still been assuming the whole thing was a hoax until having the wits startled out of him by the man's proof; now he wondered. Presumably the answer would have something to do with magic, but Heero was by now getting a fairly good idea of what magic could and couldn't typically do -- and he didn't think anything that would grant immortality was on the list of frequently miscast spells. Perhaps it had something to with that 'extremely powerful' artifact the man had mentioned. 

Putting his back to the door, he settled in to wait. He didn't have long, though; the work lot wasn't much farther from his apartment than the restaurant, and evidently the teleportation (or whatever it was called) was instantaneous. Quatre and the stranger were soon approaching him down the hall, and at the sight of them Heero finally turned and put the key into the lock. 

Again, "Thank you," said the stranger -- what was his name, anyway? -- as Heero opened the door and gestured the others to enter in front of him. The man seemed to radiate tension now, and the atmosphere immediately pervaded the apartment. This was lit only by the television, which of course was still on, until Quatre flipped the switch. Heero closed the door and watched with interest -- not uncolored by some assimilated agitation of his own -- to see what the stranger would do. 

Duo, fairly clearly visible on the end table, greeted them with, "_There_ you are! I thought you'd be home around six or something, not halfway into _Deep Space Nine_. How late do you guys--" He'd turned his head while speaking -- slowly, as if reluctant to look away from the TV -- and cut off abruptly as it swiveled far enough to take in the little group in the entryway. In a tone quite unlike the previous he choked out, "Tr... Trowa?" 

The stranger was stumbling forward now, circumnavigating the sofa only with difficulty. When he reached the end table, he snatched up Duo, whose little arms were waving wildly, paper towel skirt and all, and pulled him against his chest. After a moment, he sank to his knees on the carpet as if he were too weak to stand. 

At first the conversation, already muffled on the stranger's side by tears and on Duo's by the stranger's suit-jacket against which he was pressed, was almost completely inaudible, but once Quatre had turned the TV off Heero found he could make out some of the words. 

"Holy shit, Trowa, it's really you, isn't it?" was the first coherent sentence from Duo. 

"Duo, oh, my god, Duo," was the bulk of the comments put forward by the other man. Trowa, apparently. This formed a sort of undercurrent to Duo's next several statements: 

"Trowa, stop hugging me; it's pointless; I can't feel it. Let me see your face! How the hell are you still alive? It was 1923, for god's sake! How did you find me? How long have you been looking? Where have you been? Why aren't you dead? I'm so fucking glad you're not dead. I'm so glad to see you. Are you crying? Hell, I would too if I could." 

Heero and Quatre stood silently in the entryway, watching as Trowa finally gave Duo a little breathing room (as it were) and discontinued his repetitive murmur. The first coherent sentence from _him_ was, "Duo, your hair... it's real... it's just like it always was..." And he stroked Duo's hair so thoroughly, so _desperately_ almost, that it began to come out of its braid. 

"Yeah..." Duo replied. Unlike his friend, whose face was streaming with tears and who seemed to be shaking a little where he knelt on the floor, Duo's thoughts and emotions could only be guessed through his voice -- though this was a little shaky too. "I've never really understood it." 

"And your eyes..." Unable to finish this thought, Trowa bent so his brow rested on Duo's head. 

"It's all right," Duo whispered. "It's all right, Trowa." 

"I've been looking for you for so long," Trowa replied at the same volume. 

"It's over now." Duo seemed to have much better hold of himself in this situation than Trowa did. Apparently ninety years of being a child's plaything was better on the brain than ninety years of penitence, fruitless searching, and solitary magical study. 

Finally Trowa looked up again, examining Duo in despair. "I never meant for this to happen..." 

"If you had," Duo laughed weakly, "I'd totally have to kill you." 

Trowa was not amused. "I am _so sorry_," he said. "I can't even ask forgiveness for something so horrible." 

"I forgave you back in, like, the forties," was Duo's impatient, still somewhat shaky reply. "So stop crying." 

This seemed to lighten the mood just a touch, though Trowa did not smile. Instead he raised a free hand to wipe at his face, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm a little drunk. And I haven't seen you in eighty-seven years." 

"And, seriously, how are you still alive?" Duo wondered. "You _look_ half-dead." 

"The curse. The artifact. It's a long story." 

"I was keeping track all along, you know," said Duo softly. "I'd look at the date and think, 'Trowa's thirty-seven this year,' or whatever... until finally in the sixties I started to hate seeing calendars... because I'd see the year and think, 'He might be dead by now...'" His voice sank even lower. "In the eighties it turned into, 'He's _probably_ dead by now,' and then..." He shook his plastic head. "And then here you are, still alive, in twenty-fucking-ten." Bad language seemed to be part of his way of dealing with severe emotion; Heero hadn't heard him swear this much before. 

At this moment Quatre touched Heero's arm. Heero, who had been somewhat hypnotized by the scene and hanging on every word as if it were something fascinating on a stage, started and looked at his friend. Quatre gestured him to follow. Only casting a brief glance back at the man and the doll that didn't even seem aware of their presence or their departure, Heero did so. 

Quatre led him out onto the balcony at the end of the hall, and, when the door was closed behind them, explained, "I think they deserve some privacy, don't you?" Slowly Heero nodded, and Quatre leaned onto the railing and sighed. "We probably shouldn't even have been in there that long, but I felt like I couldn't move." 

Again Heero nodded, and came to join Quatre at the railing. "So what do you think about them?" he asked a little darkly. 

Quatre smiled wanly. "We never had a chance."


	15. Part 14

  


Trowa couldn't remember ever feeling so weakened and overcome in his considerably long life. He'd grown so accustomed to false leads and disappointment, to having his crime thrown back into his face by fate again and again, that he'd reached a point where he simply no longer believed he would ever find Duo; somewhere in his subconscious, he saw now, he'd been under the impression -- not unjust, he thought -- that he would spend the rest of eternity on a vain search for the friend he'd damaged beyond repair. 

He hadn't even been aware that he'd felt this way. When he'd heard Duo's name again after so long, been informed that the doll the strangers had reported on that message board was, in fact, the one he sought -- he'd felt the emotional impact, he'd thought he believed, but even then it had not been real. No, until he'd actually seen Duo, held Duo, heard his voice and looked into his painted eyes... until then, he realized, he hadn't known what it _was_ to believe. And now he was almost in shock. 

Somehow he'd made it onto the sofa, where he sat at the very end next to the little table that seemed to be Duo's personal space, but he had no recollection of moving there, nor of setting Duo down. The world was at once shadowed by a haze of confusion and the lingering, cloying sorrow of the last eighty-seven years, and ablaze with a brilliance of unexpected, undeserved joy and sudden hope. 

Duo had been telling him about a few of the people he'd stayed with over the decades, more as a method of tracing his path around the country than to give any real indication of anyone's character or habits. It was no surprise that the first had been a child on vacation whose family had left town the very day of the accident. Trowa had scoured that city end to end by every means available to him -- magic, social connections, and just plain legwork -- and, finding no trace of his friend, had been forced to conclude that Duo had somehow left its boundaries. His despair at the realization that his search must now encompass the entire nation and perhaps beyond had for a while almost completely subdued him. 

"I am so sorry for you," Duo remarked with the uncanny headshake that made Trowa feel alternately guilty and very disturbed. "I was in someone's suitcase being hauled cross-country at that point. At least I had plenty of time to relax and think about what was going on... _you_ were just going nonstop." 

"I was still in the middle of everything I knew," Trowa replied, shaking his own head. "Still at home, still... human..." 

"Yeah, well... it _does_ suck to be a doll," admitted Duo, "but there are a _few_ good things about it. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, since I can't eat; or where I'm going to sleep every night, since I can't sleep, or freeze to death; I can't feel pain... There are worse things to live as than an immortal talking doll. Like probably an immortal magical human." 

Trowa shook his head. He didn't believe for an instant that it hadn't been far worse for Duo than for him. 

"So tell me about that artifact," Duo pressed, evidently tired of competing to ascribe more misery to Trowa than he'd felt himself. "I didn't even know you _had_ one that could do something like this; it must have been something you hadn't shown me yet." 

Trowa nodded. "Albert Payater -- if you remember him -- he had just given me a good price on it the day before, because it was unpredictable and almost impossible to control. Nobody knew much about it, so he didn't give me details; he did warn me that it could be dangerous to keep lying around, but I didn't take him as seriously as I should have. 

"When I researched it later I learned that it belonged to an old moon-worshiping cult in the 1700's. They used to feed their own magical energies into it when they were still active, so it's very powerful, and it does have some connection with the moon." He indicated the skin of his face. "That's the reason for this. It took me almost fifty years to be able to use it as I wanted -- and half the time I feel more like it's using me." 

"And you still have it around? You still use it?" 

"I thought about destroying it, but I was afraid that might lock you into this form forever." 

"And you too," Duo pointed out. "Since it obviously turned your spell into a curse and you got hit with backlash." 

"The skin isn't the worst of it." Trowa reached up and removed one of his contact lenses. The desire to surprise his friend a bit was probably the closest thing to a playful impulse he'd felt since he'd last seen him almost ninety years ago. When he turned his eyes on Duo again, allowing his friend to see one of them as it really was, he prompted a startled cry. 

"Whoa! What is going on there?" 

"Just another part of the backlash," Trowa said. "I used to have to wear sunglasses everywhere, including indoors, which made me look like an idiot... the invention of color contacts practically saved my life." 

"I bet!" Duo laughed. "Though you're probably pretty impossible to kill these days." 

"I've never tried," Trowa answered, completely serious. "I had to find you; dying wasn't an option." He added more quietly, "Don't think I didn't think about it, though." 

"Trowa..." Duo sounded horrified and sympathetic. 

"But now that I _have_ found you," Trowa hastened on, unable to stand Duo's pity when _Duo_ had been the real sufferer, the real victim, all along, "I can try to break the curse and put you back to normal." 

"I certainly wouldn't object to that." The caution in Duo's voice did little to hide a rising, desperate excitement, and Trowa felt his throat constrict. 

"I don't know if I can. You know how curses work." It pained him to say this, to admit that he wasn't certain he could do what they'd both been waiting almost a century for... but Duo had been without hope for so long; false hope now might end up breaking his heart, and Trowa would rather die than hurt him again. 

"But it wasn't a curse at first." Duo obviously knew his own danger, and was trying to speak levelly, trying not to get his hopes too high. He was failing, but at least he was trying. "It's possible just a normal counterspell can reverse it." 

Trowa stood up heavily, not entirely certain of his ability to do so until he managed it. He moved to stand before the table on which Duo sat, and looked down at him. "All we can do is try," he said.


	16. Part 15

  


The first thing Heero noticed when he entered his living room on the way to the kitchen on Tuesday morning was a door newly set in what had previously been a blank wall. Aware though he was that he needed to get used to magic, if not necessarily actually used to it yet, this sight was still so surprising that he was forced to stop and stare. 

It looked like the front door to a house; it was dark grey-blue with a bronze handle, and had a segmented half-circle of little glass windows set into its upper third. As he approached and peered through the glass at an improbable front hallway that, had it actually been there, would have cut right across his neighbor's apartment, he heard Duo's voice behind him. 

"Don't worry; it's not permanent." Heero turned a little reluctantly from the strange, interesting sight to where Duo sat, as usual, motionless on the end table. "It's the door to Trowa's house." 

"I guessed that much," said Heero, moving to stand before Duo and look down at him. "Why is it in my wall?" 

"I didn't think you'd mind," Duo replied apologetically, tilting his small plastic face upward and responding to Heero's skepticism rather than his question. "He wanted to get your permission first, but it must have been two in the morning by then so I told him to leave you alone." 

"I don't really mind," Heero said slowly, glancing back at the door, "as long as I never have to explain it to my landlord. But why is it here?" 

"Oh, because he lives on the east coast and it's easier for him to have the door here than to jump back and forth." 

"Why didn't he just take you with him?" Heero asked. Duo didn't immediately answer, and it struck Heero belatedly how the question might have sounded. "I'm not trying to get rid of you," he hastened to assure him seriously. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. But I got the impression from him last night that, once he found you, he wasn't going to let you out of his sight again." He _had_ been going to say 'to let you go again,' but amended his intention at the last second. It annoyed him that he had a crush, however undeveloped, on someone that was taken -- a circumstance he generally tried to avoid -- and he didn't want to think about it right now. What he _did_ want was his morning coffee, under whose influence he would speak a little less impetuously. 

"Yeah," Duo was agreeing, "he had a hard time leaving me here. I think he was afraid I'd be gone when he came back, and the whole thing would start all over." His voice lowered and softened a trifle as he added, "And can you blame him? God, I can't even _imagine_ what it's been like for him all this time. We talked for hours last night, and he told me plenty about it, but I get the feeling there's plenty more to say." 

Though not unsympathetic, Heero had to point out as he moved into the kitchen to start the coffee, "That doesn't explain the door." 

"Oh, sorry. He cast a few spells last night to try to put me back to normal--" 

At this point Heero interrupted him in surprise, "Here?!" Why it should be so startling that spellcasting had taken place in his own apartment he wasn't quite sure, but it seemed almost impossible somehow. Evidently he was farther from getting used to magic than he'd thought. 

"Yeah," Duo replied, and went on somewhat bitterly, "not that it worked. Obviously. Not that I blame Trowa," he added in haste. "This whole thing is crazy, and without actually having me around he had to just guess all along what he should be getting ready in case he met me. It's no wonder he couldn't come up with the right spell. 

"So he went home to look some things up. I wish he'd gone home to _sleep_." Now his tone was one of irritated concern. "Really, you people who actually _can_ sleep never value it enough. He was dead on his feet by the time he left, and how much wine did you guys _give_ him? And that ritual to link his door didn't help, but I bet he's been reading old books ever since then, and he'll come back in here later even _more_ tired and want to try more magic. And I've tangented again, haven't I?" Duo laughed a little. "You can't really blame me, though, since he's--" 

"No, I can't," Heero broke in, not terribly eager to hear the rest of that statement. "Go on." 

"Well, he's afraid the artifact -- did he tell you it was an artifact that caused all of this? Well, he's afraid that having me around it will just make things worse, so he didn't want to take me home just yet. Not until he's figured out some arrangement. He mentioned renting a room where he could put either me or the artifact so I didn't have to keep taking up space around here, but neither of us was really sensible enough to make actual plans last night, and now you say I can stay as long as I want..." 

"Yes," Heero agreed, in lieu of nodding since Duo wasn't looking in his direction. "You're not exactly much trouble." 

"_And_ I'm decorative," Duo added complacently. 

Heero was not about to agree with this aloud, especially since on the surface it seemed so stupid to be concurring about the physical merits of a _doll_. But after a short silence, shifting the subject, he asked, "What _is_ an artifact, anyway?" 

"An object that's constantly exposed to magic and starts absorbing it," Duo replied succinctly. "They're really useful when you need more power, but you have to watch out for them. Magic performed around them is _always_ affected, so if you have one and you're not specifically using it for the spell you're casting, it's usually a good idea to put it in another room so it doesn't interfere." 

"Well, that answers a lot of my questions," said Quatre, entering from the hall. He was ready for work, neat and professional as usual, dressed in some of the clothes he kept here against situations like this. Well, no, there really were no situations like this. Heero poured him a cup of coffee. 

Accepting this with thanks, Quatre went on, "Your Trowa told us a little last night, but I think he forgot we don't know anything about magic ourselves." 

Duo laughed. "I don't know how he'd even know that. How did he find you -- me -- us -- anyway? We were so busy being incoherent last night I never got around to asking." 

"He didn't exactly tell us either," replied Quatre, "but it seems like he saw a post we made about you on a message board, and used magic to come to where we were going to be yesterday evening." 

"He really _has_ gotten good," Duo murmured. "Figuring out where total strangers are going to be takes some doing." He brightened slightly. "And you guys were posting about me on a message board?" 

"We wanted to know if your story was possible," Heero answered. 

Quatre turned to him suddenly. "You'd better go get dressed." He gestured at the microwave clock, and Heero started. His dalliance here, where he'd only meant to come for a moment to start the coffee, was now in a fair way for making him late to work. "Do you want some toast?" Quatre called after him as he went. 

"If you're making some, sure," Heero replied over his shoulder. Quatre burned toast and had no concept of the appropriate amount of either butter or jam, but it was better than nothing. 

The last thing he heard from the living room and kitchen before entering his own room was Quatre's interested, "So, what's with the door?"


	17. Part 16

  


Yesterday had been difficult to get through at work, but it was nothing compared with today. It particularly didn't help that Quatre had two long meetings -- one of them at the downtown office -- where he really did have to pay attention and during which he couldn't email Heero. 

Poor Heero. He'd been agitated and impatient yesterday; he must be going crazy today. His disappointment must be greater, too, though he would never admit it; Quatre had had only the course of a single conversation to develop the beginnings of an interest in Trowa, but Heero had had Duo around for a few _days_ \-- weekend days, too, when they'd been free to spend a lot of time together -- before the truth became apparent. 

Quatre was lucky he enjoyed his job (or at least had the ability to be absorbed by it); he couldn't say he was perfectly distracted from thoughts of what might be going on with Duo and Trowa, but the day passed more quickly than he might have expected. It was five o'clock precisely when he locked up his office and headed for the car, and he started automatically for Heero's apartment without thinking. 

When he _did_ think, he reflected that he couldn't stay the night there again unless he went home first for more clothing, and that if he went home he might just as well sleep in his own bed. But for the moment he was definitely going to see what, if anything, was happening at Heero's place. He had a key, though he rarely used it since he was usually there _with_ Heero; today, arriving before his friend, he didn't scruple to let himself in. 

"Hey, hottie," Duo greeted from his table. 

"Hi," Quatre replied, setting his briefcase down on the kitchen counter and draping his jacket over it. "Still a doll, I see." 

"Yes," agreed Duo sullenly. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" 

"Sure." Quatre made his way over to the doll. 

"See this key next to my shapely cross-dressed legs?" 

Quatre laughed as he picked up the key. 

"That opens Trowa's door. He said that as long as he was invading Heero's home like this, Heero should have access to his too." 

"OK," said Quatre, amused at this concept of fairness. 

Duo waved an arm up and down, probably in a gesture that wished it could be pointing at the object of their discussion rather than straight ahead of him. "Can you go check on him for me? He hasn't been back in here since he linked the door, and that was about fifteen hours ago now." 

"Sure," Quatre said sympathetically, turning toward Trowa's door. He laughed a little as he admitted, "I'm really curious what it's like in there anyway." 

"So am I," said Duo, sullen again, "but there's that whole artifact thing..." 

"I'll tell you about it," Quatre promised as he inserted the key into the deadbolt lock. "Be right back, I guess." 

Through the windows in the door Quatre had been able to get some small idea of what at least the front hallway was like, but only from inside could the true eccentricity of the place be appreciated. The decorations and furnishings were sparse, but even so managed to form a sort of gradient of decades spanning almost the entire last century. Quatre's own house having been in the family for quite some time, he was no stranger to a somewhat unusual combination of styles, but this was beyond anything he'd ever seen. 

In the entryway alone his eyes ran over a dreadful hanging light fixture straight out of the 70's, an actual grandfather clock from who knew when, and a tall brass hat rack with attached umbrella stand. It came as something of a surprise to Quatre that he even knew what an umbrella stand _was_. When had he ever taken note of the existence of such a thing in his life? Sure, its intended purpose was blatantly indicated by the presence of an umbrella within -- one of those old-style gigantic black ones with a curved wooden handle -- but since when had the words 'umbrella' and 'stand' converged so easily in his head? Not that it was terribly important. 

This seemed a very small house; a narrow staircase led up to what was probably an attic and down to a tiny cellar, but other than that there only appeared to be a few rooms on a single level. The largest of these, to which the entry led, was a dining/living room and kitchen that stood in complete darkness until he found a light-switch. If Quatre hadn't already been reminded by the grandfather clock that this was a different time-zone, it would have been confirmed by the starry night sky visible through the dining room windows (between checkered curtains from the 50's, if Quatre was any judge, and possibly as old as the house). 

As there was no sign of Trowa in here, Quatre satisfied himself with only a single look around at an oak china cabinet with stained glass in its doors, and a laminate-top chrome dining table with matching chairs, before moving on. He found, for some reason, that he was taking care to step quietly and make as little noise as possible, but it wasn't out of nervousness or embarrassment -- rather, it was the same hush he would have affected in a library or even a sickroom. 

Given that the magician had found them via the internet, Quatre supposed he shouldn't be surprised at seeing that Trowa had a computer in the room to the left of the entry -- nor at learning that the chaotic computer desk was not a phenomenon limited to modern generations, even when the desk itself was an antique probably a century old. As this room was also unlit and uninhabited, he crossed the hall and opened the door to the third chamber. 

Here was light, and it was here that he found what he sought. The room was lined with bookshelves on both sides -- only one of them a good-old-fashioned solid oak affair, and the rest of a decidedly do-it-yourself variety no older than he was. The relatively narrow remaining space between was somewhat cluttered by a couple of similarly mismatched tables littered with books, papers, and miscellaneous objects. Another room, evidently a bedroom, lay past a door that stood ajar at the far end, and beside this sat Trowa in an armchair -- this one, Quatre thought, dating back to the 60's, to judge by its awful pattern. 

An open book lay in his lap, and several others were stacked on a table within arm's reach beneath the antique lamp that was the room's only illumination, but Trowa certainly wasn't reading at the moment. How long he'd been asleep was anybody's guess, but it was probably for the best; he'd appeared from the moment Quatre first saw him to need a good deal more sleep than he ever got. Even like this his face was serious and sad, and, though its unhealthy color did not look quite so bad in the low light, exceptionally pale against the colors of the cushion behind. 

He didn't so much as change the rhythm of his breathing as Quatre approached, nor stir as the book was removed from between his limp hands. Before placing this on the table with the rest, Quatre glanced at the pages Trowa had been perusing. The language was unfamiliar to him, so he didn't look long. In setting it down, he noticed a half-empty cup on the table -- a genuine teacup in an actual matching saucer -- whose contents were long since cold. Quatre gathered this up and switched off the light before leaving the room. 

There _was_ a dishwasher in the kitchen -- a surprisingly not-ancient-looking one at that -- but Quatre wasn't sure the little cup and plate were safe to be put into it. They were definitely too old to have the answer printed on their undersides, too, so in the end he just rinsed them and set them next to the sink. Then, with one more brief glance around, he made his way back to the front door and thence into Heero's apartment. 

He was greeted by the sound of Duo's hearty laughter. Heero was apparently relating some amusing tale of a co-worker in that dry way of his. Goodness knew he had enough amusing co-workers on the sales floor to furnish a lifetime of anecdotes; Quatre was never quite sure how he put up with them most of the time. 

They both looked over as he entered, which was a good deal less disturbing in Heero's case as Heero's head didn't swivel quite so distressingly. "He's asleep," Quatre announced. 

"Really?" wondered Duo in pleased surprise. 

"Well, in a chair," Quatre allowed. "He still had a book in his lap. He didn't look very comfortable, but I didn't want to wake him up." 

"That's a relief," said Duo sincerely. "He sure looked like he needed it." He proceeded without a pause. "So what's it like in there? How's he living these days?" 

After the enthusiastic interest in the doll's tone, Quatre wasn't much surprised when, as he began describing Trowa's eclectic house, Heero got up and slipped out of the room.


	18. Part 17

Trowa had reappeared in Heero's living room the next morning, looking, if not exactly _healthy_, at least a good deal better for the sleep he'd gotten. He didn't seem much happier, though; evidently yesterday's research hadn't accomplished much. 

"Breakfast?" Hero offered as he got the coffee started. Today he'd made sure to dress before emerging so that, if Duo distracted him again, he could at least dash out the door the moment he realized it had happened. 

Trowa looked at him a little blankly, as if he'd forgotten what 'breakfast' meant, and Heero was half-hoping he would decline the offer. Heero didn't make bad money, but it would probably put a strain on his budget if he had to start feeding someone else full time. He'd pretty much only offered because he was attempting to keep jealousy from marring his treatment of Trowa. 

"_Yes_, you want breakfast, Trowa," Duo prodded. He was turning out to be something of a nag where Trowa was concerned, and Heero was trying his hardest not to find this adorable. "_I'd_ like some breakfast too, thanks, Heero," he went on, "but only if you hand-feed it to me while I recline on a silken divan and Quatre fans me with one of those big leaves." 

"You want me to hand-spoon cereal onto your head?" Heero wondered dryly. Not giving Duo a chance to answer he said to Trowa, "I have honey Cheerios or Frosted Flakes, or toast, or maybe--" he glanced into the freezer-- "yeah, toaster waffles." 

"Oh, and dancing girls," put in Duo. "I want dancing girls too." 

"Toast sounds perfect, thank you," Trowa said. 

"What do you want on it?" Heero asked as he put the bread into the toaster and then looked for his own breakfast. 

"And live music," Duo continued. "From Spain, maybe." 

"Just butter, if you have it," said Trowa. 

Heero poured himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and, leaning against the counter, simultaneously watched the toaster and began to eat. 

"And I want a swimming pool of SG-1 boxed sets to swim in, and, Heero, you are so not listening to me." 

With a slight laugh Heero turned to deal with the toast. "No, I'm taking careful notes," he assured Duo. "Trowa, do you want coffee?" 

"No, thank you." 

"You know what you _could_ get me, though?" Duo said next. "Some real clothes. Not that you haven't done a great job with the paper towel, but it isn't very sturdy, and I don't really think it goes with my fabulous hair." 

Despite the frivolity of this word-choice, Heero got the feeling Duo was serious about this request. It seemed strange on the surface, but he supposed it made sense, really; a lack of proper clothing was probably just one more way for Duo to feel less like a person and more like an object. Heero wished he'd thought of it without having to be asked. As he came out of the kitchen to the couch, bringing Trowa his butter toast on a plate, "I'll see what I can do," he said. 

On and off throughout his nine hours (including lunch) he pondered this issue, and by the end of the shift had decided that he wouldn't go home again without clothes for Duo. As he wasn't entirely certain where one went to buy doll clothes, he waited for Quatre to finish being a workaholic for the day so he could ask him. 

"Wal-Mart?" Quatre suggested with a tilt of his brows. "Why did you expect me to know this?" 

"You have more sisters than I do." 

Quatre gave him a skeptical look. "Well, we'll try Wal-Mart." 

In the back of his head Heero had always been aware of the existence of that all-pink aisle that seemed to be found in every Wal-Mart in the country; even just walking past the toy section it was impossible to miss. He hadn't really given it much thought, however; if he had, he probably would have decided he never, never wanted to go there. But here he was entering the headachey lane of brightly colored doom, half determined and half embarrassed out of his wits. 

"So I guess this is it," Quatre was saying as they looked around somewhat helplessly at the aisle's unfamiliar products and one other shopper. The latter, a little red-headed girl, had obviously been watching them since they stumbled into her territory, but was pretending she hadn't. 

Heero nodded, feeling increasingly out of place with each moment that passed and trying to get his eyes to focus on something -- _anything_ \-- on the racks in front of him. 

"I feel like I've accidentally walked into the ladies' room," Quatre murmured. And it _did_ feel very much like that... they weren't welcome here. 

"There aren't any Barbies in the ladies' room," the little girl said, sotto voce and disdainful. 

"They're all staring at me," Heero muttered, having got his eyes to focus and not liking it much. They just _hung_ there in their boxes, unmoving, identical, and looming. 

"They're just _dolls_," the red-headed girl replied, again under her breath but a bit louder this time. 

"This was a bad idea," said Quatre, seeming to shrink into himself as if to get as far from either side of the aisle as he could. "We should never have come here." 

"Duhh," said the little girl. 

Heero looked desperately from one blank, vapidly-smiling face to another, feeling as if he was going colorblind. "They're all female..." 

"The Kens are over _here_." The red-headed girl was now speaking at a normal volume, still utterly contemptuous, and pointing to a spot on the shelf a little further down. Wordlessly, hesitantly, Heero and Quatre approached to look where she indicated. 

Seeing that here was, indeed, what they sought went a long way toward lifting the glamour of terror and inadequacy that had fallen over them the moment they set foot in this alien world. But as Heero stared at the single Ken outfit for sale -- some type of powder-blue polo-like affair with a grey-and-white sweater-vest _attached_ and matching blue loafers -- he felt with sinking heart that this whole dreadful experience might have been a dreadful waste of time. 

Quatre reached for the outfit, but Heero stopped him with the stony announcement, "I can't see him wearing that." 

Quatre seemed glad to pull his hand back empty, but he did protest, "It's the only one." 

"Well, the dolls have to come with clothes _on_..." Heero crouched, putting himself face-to-face with the only actual Ken the store seemed to have. The doll stood stiffly, grinning foolishly, in a narrow box that looked for all the world like a pink coffin. If Heero hadn't already gotten past his disbelief that Duo had once been human, this might have done something to convince him; there was a frightening soullessness to Ken's eyes that was, thank god, entirely absent in Duo. Also, he was wearing a pink suit coat. 

"No," said Heero. 

"You notice he doesn't even rate an actual tie..." Quatre remarked in a hushed voice, horrified and fascinated. And, indeed, the purple tie adorning Ken's chest was painted onto a shirt-front that Heero didn't think was even a separate piece from the jacket. He imagined taking this monstrosity home to Duo, shuddered, and pulled out his cell phone looking for Mapquest. 

"You should go online," the little girl was advising. "There's a much better selection there." 

"We kinda wanted it right away," Quatre explained. 

Heero wasn't looking, but he could almost _hear_ the expression the girl was giving them both. 

"It's for a birthday tomorrow," said Quatre weakly. It wasn't like him to make up pathetic excuses; moreover, there was a wariness to his words that sounded like it could blossom into panic at any moment. Clearly the aisle was getting to him. 

"You'd be better off getting a Barbie horse or something," the little red-head replied wisely, though there was still a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Nobody cares what Ken wears." 

"But..." Quatre faltered. 

"Come on," Heero declared, not entirely free of panic himself but with a brief thrill of triumph as he found what he was looking for. "There's a Toys'R'Us on 32nd street."


	19. Part 18

When they made it back, scarred and triumphant, to Heero's apartment, Duo again expressed his surprise at their lateness, and this time got through his question about their work hours that had been interrupted the other night. 

"We were clothes-shopping for you," Heero explained. 

"Oh, really?!" Duo's words were a good deal more indicative of excitement than the slow, awkward movements of plastic limbs by which he shifted his entire body to face them. 

Heero went toward him, holding out the package so Duo could examine the outfit. The doll made an appreciative noise at the button-up shirt and khaki shorts, and reached his arms out as if he wanted to hold it, though that was clearly out of the question. "Blaine was the best thing to ever happen to Ken," he remarked complacently. 

"What?" Heero wondered. 

"Blaine was Ken's boyfriend during Ken's bi-curious phase in the mid-90's," Duo explained. "Ken came out of it with much better fashion sense." 

"Seriously?" asked Heero. 

"Definitely." Duo nodded his plastic head. "Blaine was a surfer, and he taught Ken not to dress like he had a stick up his ass." 

"No," Heero said impatiently, "I mean, did Ken really have a bi-curious phase?" 

"Yeah. I guess Mattel figured they'd made Barbie do everything they could think of, so they might as well give Ken a turn. It didn't go over well with parents, though, so they dropped it pretty quick. I think that's why Barbie doesn't sell as well as she used to; people still aren't over it." 

"That's understandable," said Heero. "I mean, predictable." 

"He's messing with you, Heero," Quatre put in, laughing. "I think Blaine was _Barbie's_ boyfriend for a while while she was broken up with Ken or something; I remember hearing about it somewhere. And Ken did _not_ come out of it with better fashion sense; we _know_ this; we were _just_ at the store." 

"Well, they _did_ re-image him," said Duo, grinning as widely as his frigid mouth would allow at Heero's subsequent grumbling about having no need to know this kind of thing and that Duo should be grateful for the present since he had no idea what Heero had gone through to get it. "He got a few better outfits out of it." 

Heero broke off grumbling to ask, "So you like it?" 

"Yes, definitely," Duo said emphatically. 

"Good." It was that gruff tone of Heero's that indicated slight embarrassment; Quatre recognized it, but doubted Duo did. He thought that this time it was more because Heero had bought clothing for a guy he liked and not had his offering rejected than because he'd bought doll clothing at a toy store. 

As Heero began trying to tear the package open, Quatre inquired casually, "Where's Trowa?" 

Duo waved an arm; although this movement was always the same, contingent upon the configuration of limb and shoulder, Quatre was beginning to recognize the different intents Duo put into it. This one was, _Oh, somewhere over there..._ "He's researching again. Hopefully he fell asleep again. I get the feeling he hasn't slept more than half how much he should have over the last eight bazillion years." 

"I'll go check on him," Quatre volunteered with alacrity. Heero made a noise that might have been a snort and might only have been a sound of frustration at the difficult package. Quatre ignored him and moved toward Trowa's door. 

The little house was again dark and quiet, but this time as Quatre entered he heard Trowa's voice from the room to the right: "Who's there?" 

"It's Quatre." He pushed through the door, which had been open just far enough for a line of dim light to shine out across the entryway. 

From the horrible chair at the other end of the room Trowa looked over at him. His expression was vague, as if his thoughts were still primarily elsewhere, and he repeated, "Quatre..." slowly and as if he didn't at first understand what was going on. Finally he seemed to shake himself, more mentally than physically, though he did sit up a little straighter, and said, "Did you need something?" 

"Actually," Quatre said, moving farther forward into the room and the lamplight, "I was wondering if _you_ needed anything." He smiled. "I don't know anything about magic, but if there's anything else I can do to help you while you work..." 

Trowa stared at him somewhat blankly. "Such as?" 

"I don't know," Quatre said with a slight shrug. "It looks like this room at least could use some straightening up. Your teacup's empty -- can I get you some more? Or how about dinner? Have you eaten?" 

Trowa's attention seemed to drift even farther from Quatre as he echoed, "Eaten...?" 

Quatre sighed. Even if this man _didn't_ already have an extremely interesting cursed boyfriend, what chance was there for someone that couldn't even get himself noticed? 

This reaction, at least, Trowa seemed to observe. "I'm sorry," he said, setting aside the book he'd been reading and standing. "It's very kind of you to offer." He stretched slightly, and Quatre noticed that the button-up shirt he wore was, in fact, buttoned all the way up to the neck, though no tie adorned the collar. "I don't mean to ignore you." 

"That's all right," said Quatre charitably. "You've been lost in those old books all day, I bet." 

Trowa frowned slightly as he glanced at the one he'd just put on the table, and said nothing. 

"No luck yet?" Quatre assumed. This conversation was proving rather tough going. 

Trowa shook his head. 

"Well, some dinner will do you good." He turned toward the door. 

"I... don't think I have any food here." 

Quatre turned back. "_No_ food?" 

"There... may be some... lettuce..." 

Both of Quatre's brows rose. "_Some lettuce_?" He supposed echoing each other's words was as effective a way to communicate as any. 

"I don't remember--" Here Trowa was interrupted by the sound of an old-fashioned and rather awful doorbell ringing in the entry. His frown instantly grew into a scowl. "Would it be too much to ask you to answer that for me?" 

"No, not at all," Quatre said automatically, turning, but hesitated before taking even a single step. "Is it the real door? How do I open it onto the real outside?" 

"Just concentrate on it." Trowa was already walking back toward his bedroom, as if to put as much distance between himself and the unknown visitor as possible. "If they ask for me by name, tell them they have the wrong address." 

Shrugging as Trowa disappeared, Quatre moved out into the hall and toward the door. Even as he approached, thinking about opening it onto whatever actually lay outside, the view through the little windows shivered and darkened, altering so that, instead of seeing into Heero's apartment where his friend was berating a talking doll for convincing him that Ken had been gay even for a little while, he made out a wooden porch with peeling green paint in the yellowish glow of an old porch-light. And there were two people waiting.


	20. Part 19

On occasion -- a very rare occasion -- someone would ask Duo why he flirted so outrageously with every adult he talked to. The real answer was that he'd spent so much time with children -- played with by children and taking part in their games, watching children's television and movies, listening to children's music and their books read aloud, and even being considered an object designed exclusively _for_ children -- that any opportunity to reconnect with the adult world was welcome. There were more meaningful ways of doing so, of course, but pointed and often suggestive flirtation, he'd found, was quick and reliable. 

He never actually gave that answer, though, since he hated the question so damn much. It seemed to imply that, from a doll, any expression of romantic or sexual interest in a non-doll was unnatural and out of place. Therefore he usually answered by flirting even more outrageously than before. 

So when their discussion of bisexual Ken led Heero eventually to ask him, "Since when does a doll care so much about gay issues anyway?" Duo was less than pleased. Heero was a reasonable sort, and would undoubtedly understand if Duo pointed out seriously that being a doll really made very little difference in his interests and concerns -- but Duo didn't feel like answering seriously. 

"When I'm surrounded by so many faaaabulous gay men," he said flippantly, "_of course_ I care." 

"How do you know we're all gay?" Heero wondered. 

"Well, Quatre I'm not so sure about," replied Duo pensively, "but you're obvious." 

"Am I?" 

"Come on, man, you've got an _end table_. Do straight guys buy end tables?" Duo was able to tap his plastic hand against the table, which was very satisfying after so many gestures that didn't even begin to indicate the desired object. 

"It was a present from my parents," Heero replied a bit stiffly. 

"Oh, do they know you're gay too?" 

"Why are we talking about this?" demanded Heero. 

"Isn't it part of the gay agenda?" Duo responded lazily. "'Sit around talking about how gay we are?'" This won him a slight laugh and a certain amount of relaxation from Heero. "You're right about one thing, though," he went on a little more seriously. "A doll doesn't really have to worry much about discrimination. Well, parents might get rid of me for being a bad influence on their kids because I'm gay, but they'd probably already have gotten rid of me just for talking in the first place." 

"So you do actually identify specifically as gay," Heero confirmed. 

Heero was odd... he was certainly a nice guy, and a lot of fun to talk to, but just beneath that outward friendliness there was a sort of coldness or hardness that Duo couldn't seem to get past. It was as if he was only superficially involved in the situation, doing what he did out of actual altruism rather than any real interest. It was a shame, since Duo thought _he_ might otherwise have had a real interest in Heero. 

"Ever since..." Duo paused ponderously. "1969. There wasn't really a 'gay identity' for gay people back when I was human -- though there were plenty of us wandering around -- but I got to watch the whole culture change. The 60's _sucked_," he added thoughtfully. "It isn't necessarily a good thing when you _can't_ openly be identified as part of a certain group, even when that group is the butt of some horrible decade." His voice sank lower as he remembered. "When you want to help... when you want to stand up for something... you'd rather..." 

He trailed off; this was becoming far more serious than he'd intended. Heero was behind him, in the kitchen, probably getting some of that food stuff that Duo, even after all this time, tried very hard not to miss desperately; so Duo couldn't see him or how he might be reacting to the uncharacteristic solemnity of topic and expression. Nor was Heero saying anything. Well, he would just _have_ to say something; that was all. "So what about you?" Duo demanded brightly. "How long have _you_ been out of the closet?" 

The silence behind him went on for a few moments, though the sound of cupboards and dishes indicated Heero's continued presence. Finally Heero said, "I'm not sure you could exactly call me 'out of the closet.'" 

"Well, your parents obviously know," Duo pointed out, "since they gave you the end table." And he patted the table beneath him again with satisfaction. 

Heero laughed faintly. "Yes, my parents know. They don't like it much, but they know." 

"And Quatre obviously knows." 

"What do you mean, 'obviously?'" wondered Heero a little suspiciously. 

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Duo replied innocently. 

"We have a couple of friends who won't stop trying to hook us up, and if you start doing it too I will..." He paused, evidently searching for a suitable threat. "...take you to Goodwill." 

"No!!" Duo cried, trying not to mar the drama by laughing. "I mean, OK, I won't. So Quatre is definitely gay too, then." 

"I thought he was more obvious than me," muttered Heero. 

Duo laughed again. 

"Actually that's part of why we were friends in the first place," Heero went on reminiscently after a few moments. "It's scary to realize you're gay in high school, and having a friend helps. He was braver than I was; he was out to all his friends by the time we graduated. _I_ didn't go out with anyone until my sophomore year of college." 

"Well, you've got me beat," Duo said encouragingly. "I never 'went out' with anyone ever. Or to college, actually. I've been to elementary school, though. Usually in someone's backpack, but at least I got to hear about times tables and _The Voyage of the Mimi_." 

This made Heero laugh once more, less faintly than before, as he came to sit on the couch beside Duo with his dinner a little more comfortably than he'd been moving or speaking for the last few minutes. This was the reason Duo had changed the subject; Heero obviously wasn't entirely easy talking about gay issues -- which was probably what he meant when he said he wasn't exactly out of the closet -- and Duo didn't think it advisable to push him. Though if he'd been human, perhaps... 

For the moment, Duo reached down to the remote control that was conveniently positioned next to him and turned on the TV. "It's about time for _Ghost Hunters_, I think," he said.


	21. Part 20

  


Trowa's bedroom window was tiny, the home of more than one spider's web, hidden by a dingy old curtain, and not positioned well for any good view of the front door. Despite all of this and despite being almost certain he knew who was probably on his porch on a Wednesday night outside of normal visiting hours, Trowa was looking through the window trying to see what was going on. He may actually have looked because he _didn't_ want to know, and would therefore derive some satisfaction from not being able to see; that was definitely the reason he didn't use magic to find out. 

Eventually he wandered away from the pleasantly unhelpful window and sat down on the bed, and it was there that Quatre found him on entering the room. The gift basket in Quatre's hands and the puzzled expression on his face confirmed Trowa's assumption. He did pause looking puzzled for a moment, though, long enough to glance curiously around the room. 

"How many were there?" Trowa asked. 

"Two." Quatre's baffled expression returned as he fixed his eyes on Trowa. "Teenagers, I think, a boy and a girl. They shoved this at me before they said anything--" he held up the basket a little helplessly-- "and then asked if Mr. Barton was at home. That's you, I assume." 

Trowa nodded. 

"I said no one with that name lived here, and they apologized about ten times and were backing away like I was going to do something awful to them. I couldn't even give the basket back because they were so busy apologizing." He smiled a little as he looked down at the object in question. "There's food in it, though; at least it's some dinner for you." 

"Was the girl wearing a low-cut shirt or a short skirt?" wondered Trowa. 

"Yes..." Quatre looked over at him. "Do you know her?" 

"No," said Trowa, then added simply, "but they all wear that." He rose and made his way out of the room, leaving his visitor to follow. If Quatre was determined to feed him, it might as well take place in the dining room as was appropriate. 

"Just as I was closing the door," Quatre was saying as he trailed Trowa through the house, "I heard one of them say something about their dad getting a spell wrong. So they obviously knew who you were _and_ that you're... magical... Who were they and what did they want?" He was obviously immensely curious; at least some of it was going to have to be explained. 

"I am a hundred and eleven years old," Trowa said with a slight sigh, turning on the lights in the dining room and kitchen. "I can do nearly anything." So far the line seemed to be drawn at breaking the curse on Duo. "Among magicians that makes me a... sort of... celebrity..." 

Quatre grinned admiringly; Trowa had seen him do that once or twice already, and it didn't bode well. "And your fanclub brings you fruit baskets?" The latest example of such an offering crunched slightly as Quatre set it down on the table and began pulling oranges out of it. 

"They bring me a lot of things." It was fairly useful on the rare occasion that he wanted to eat, or when the hopefuls had the presence of mind to give him something more useful than food... but it never came free. First it was, _"Oh, Mr. Barton, you did such a nice job charming Rebecca Thomas's garden for her back in 1973!"_ \-- because the magical community had dreadfully accurate memories like that -- _"You **have** to tell me how you did it!"_ But this turned into, _"Wow, what a complicated spell! How do you keep that level of energy up?"_ Which became, _"Well, can you teach me?"_ and eventually, _"I could be your apprentice! Would you train me? I could work for you... I'll clean your house and bring you anything you need and make all your meals for you!"_ Then they got a little bit older and it was more along the lines of, _"My daughter's really good at fire spells, and she'd love to hear any tips you have on the subject... she's a nice girl; I'm sure you'd really like her."_

And now here he had one that he couldn't ignore or dismiss. He hadn't worried about leaving a key to his house at Heero's apartment because Heero obviously didn't like him very much; he hadn't realized Heero's friend might be the one taking advantage of it. Of course he was grateful to both of his new acquaintances for their kindness to Duo and the fact that they'd posted on that message board in the first place... but that didn't mean he was eager to have one of them in his home being admiring and helpful. 

"Either you really like oranges," Quatre was remarking, "or someone really thinks you do." 

"I do like oranges," said Trowa. At least he was fairly sure he did. His followers tended to remember what he liked better than he did these days. 

Quatre bustled about the kitchen, occasionally exclaiming in wonder or amusement at what he found there, and Trowa felt somewhat powerless to stop him. It was ironic, really; he could jump instantly to just about any place in the world, fix complicated machinery without having the faintest idea how it worked, and essentially destroy anything that annoyed him... yet it seemed that, in the few areas of his long and empty life that actually meant something to him, he was consistently helpless. 

Not that it was any more than he deserved. 

But he _would_ find a way to restore Duo's humanity. He would figure this out if it killed him (which seemed more than likely, when he thought about it). No standard counterspell had worked, and no divination had given him any hint as to what he should be doing instead, nor the specific mechanics of the curse... but there had to be _something_. He refused to believe this was destined to go on forever. That might be an appropriate fate for him, but not for Duo. 

During the course of these reflections he'd lost track of what Quatre was doing, but now found him at the table gesturing and smiling. He'd set a place for one, and now stood behind the chair like a butler welcoming his master to supper. 

"It's a strange dinner," he said ruefully, as if he had been personally responsible for the selection, "but there really _isn't_ anything in your fridge. Not even lettuce." 

Trowa looked down, observing orange segments and apple wedges on the plate next to three cookies and some slices of what seemed to be some kind of cake or bread with raisins in it, and a glass of water. It _was_ a strange dinner, but he might as well eat it, since it was here. "Thank you," he said, and sat down. 

Quatre just smiled and leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

"Don't stand there watching me eat," Trowa ordered. 

"Sorry." With a slight laugh, Quatre began moving around the room, examining things he must have missed while preparing this little 'meal.' 

"You're welcome to eat some of this too," said Trowa eventually, a little less rudely (he believed). 

Quatre turned to look at him, mildly skeptical. "_I_ have food at home. You can save the rest of that for tomorrow." Yes, he was obviously going to be one of _those_... the ones that insisted Trowa 'eat properly' and 'get enough sleep' and always wanted to make sure his linens were clean. 

In an attempt at nipping this in the bud, "I don't need food," Trowa stated flatly. "I have a part in Duo's curse; I can't die." 

Quatre nodded. "Yes, that was the impression I got," he said calmly. "But eating can only be good for you." 

Trowa considered pushing the plate aside and leaving the table to make his point, but he'd caught the smell of the orange segments by now, and his stomach had remembered, as it did at times like this, what food was and that it _liked it_; so he really didn't have the option of walking away at the moment. Without a word he started to eat. 

This burst of sensation always took him by surprise. He _did_ like oranges. He liked _food_. It was just so explosively, unexpectedly enjoyable... which of course came with its own problems. Because he could never start enjoying something this much (or at all, generally) without an immediate kickback of guilt and self-loathing. He, who had doomed his best friend to a life without this kind of pleasure, did not deserve to be taking any pleasure in it himself. So what started out as quick and eager ended up tedious and forced. 

And Quatre was watching him again. 

"Stop that," Trowa commanded. What he really wished he could say was, 'Leave me alone,' but he was aware of how little good that generally did. Once they got into the house, it was next to impossible to get them to leave; the trick was to keep them from entering in the first place... but this one had a key. 

This one also appeared better able to take a hint than most, for he stood straight and said, "Well, I'll get out of your hair now that I know you've eaten. Duo will be relieved to hear that, too." 

"Duo sent you?" Trowa wondered, relenting a little. 

"Not exactly," shrugged Quatre. "Last I saw, he was getting an earful from Heero for fooling him into believing Mattel had made gay Ken dolls. But he did say he hoped you'd fallen asleep, since he doesn't think you get enough sleep." 

Trowa was silent under a fresh weight of guilt. Duo, who couldn't sleep, who had specifically mentioned how much he hated his inability to sleep, whose inability to sleep was _entirely Trowa's fault_, was worried about how much sleep Trowa was getting. 

Quatre stood in the doorway leading to the entry as if waiting for an answer, and Trowa got the feeling that, if he could just give one, Quatre would go away. So with an effort he said, "Tell him... tell him I'll sleep tonight." 

Quatre smiled and nodded and was gone. Trowa listened to the front door open and close, then looked down at the plate whose contents he doubted he could finish. 

Perhaps he really _would_ sleep tonight.


	22. Part 21

  


Heero's official job title was Pacific Division Sales Coordinator, but a better one would have been The Guy Who Fixes All The Mistakes Of A Third Of The Company's Sales Staff. Normally this didn't bother him too much; there was something about redoing a really shoddy piece of work to a higher standard, then taking a good long look at the finished product from arm's length, that satisfied him intensely. But this entire work week had been an impatient nightmare from beginning to middle, and he almost felt he couldn't get through the two more days of cleaning up after his co-workers that lay between him and the weekend. 

Not long ago, if anyone had asked him what he would have been looking forward to doing on this particular evening, he would have (besides wondering why they cared) mentioned the first of the NCAA regionals. But things were different now that there was a wizard (or whatever Trowa preferred to be called) with access to Heero's living room. Duo could be human again any time, and then he and Trowa might be off without a word. 

Heero was curious to see more magic, and more specifically he would very much like to see Duo's curse lifted. He wondered what Duo would look like as a human. Sure, the doll face gave a _fairly_ good idea, and Heero imagined the hair would be about the same... but living flesh, more nuanced facial expressions, body language... How tall would he be? Were his eyes really that intense and improbable shade of blue-purple? Heero was exceedingly interested in all of it. 

So the work days had been dragging, and today's tedium was an ominous indication of what tomorrow would be like when the current situation was compounded by the usual impatience of a Friday. At least, though, between today and tomorrow (provided he could survive today) there was Duo. And it didn't matter how often or how vehemently he reminded himself not to think that way. 

Most of this he relayed to Quatre in a grumble at lunch, and found Quatre more than ready to agree. Though Quatre's reason for wanting to be away from the office was more along the lines of, "Do you know that Trowa doesn't _eat_ unless someone's there to make him?" 

"That explains his reaction to breakfast yesterday," muttered Heero. 

"By the way, how's the tenth for tennis?" 

It took Heero a moment to shift gears, and another to try to remember what he might or might not be doing two weeks from the coming Saturday. But finally he said, "Fine, I think. I'll tell you if it turns out I'm doing something that day." 

Quatre nodded. 

It seemed strange to be making plans to do normal, non-magical things with their normal, non-magical friends. It was like they'd started living in another world and were scheduling a step out of it for a day. Which was stupid, since barely anything in their actual lives had changed. Sure, there was a talking doll on the end table in Heero's living room, which room also contained a door that opened onto a magician's house across the country, but what difference did that _really_ make? 

Or so Heero kept trying to tell himself. 

Having satisfied the tennis question, Quatre's thoughts had also undoubtedly gone back to the matter of their new friends, for he said pensively after swallowing a mouthful of turkey sandwich, "We could use some time off, I think." 

"I certainly wouldn't object," Heero replied. 

Quatre nodded again. "I'll see what I can do" -- reminding Heero yet again that there were benefits to having the Pacific Division Regional Manager as your best friend. 

Even after what felt like the longest four hours of Heero's life -- really, this was _not_ boding well for tomorrow -- he still couldn't quite go home yet; it was his turn to provide the snacks, so he _had_ to stop at the grocery store this time. And as long as he was at the store already, his overriding logic wouldn't let him leave until he'd done _all_ of his grocery shopping (though admittedly somewhat in a hurry). But thereafter, _finally_, it was time to go see Duo. The game, that is. The basketball game. It was time to go see the basketball game. 

He had high hopes of making a true college basketball fan out of Duo. The doll remembered not only the rules, but the general workings of the tournament and that their team was already out of the running. In fact, he required very little further tutoring to seem like he had a fairly good idea of what was going on at any given moment. And his cheers, necessarily rather quiet though they were without a real diaphragm to support them, were always properly timed and must have bolstered the team had they been there in person. 

"You know I have never eaten pizza in my life?" Duo said a little wistfully during a commercial break. 

Quatre stared at him. "That is so sad," he said in perfect seriousness. "This stuff you get at the grocery store and cook yourself isn't as good as the stuff you order, though. 

"But it's a lot cheaper," Heero put in, defending his frugal snack choice. 

"Oh, I'm not complaining," said Quatre hastily, "just letting him know. We wouldn't want poor impressionable Duo getting the wrong idea because we're eating inferior pizza." 

Heero rolled his eyes and turned away from his friend back to Duo. "As soon as you're human again, we'll feed you all sorts of things you've never had before." 

"Is that a promise?" Duo grinned. 

"Sure," said Heero. 

Trowa wandered in near the end of the game and stared blankly at the TV as if he'd never seen one before -- though in reality he had witnessed the _evolution_ of television. What a strange life he must had led, Heero thought without much sympathy. At least his appearance spared Quatre the trouble of going to look for him, once the game was over, to make sure he ate or whatever. 

"Oh, hey, Trowa!" Duo said happily. Duo was always _far_ too happy to see Trowa; it was a consistent and irritating reminder. "Come watch basketball with us!" 

Trowa moved to stand beside the table where Duo sat, still gazing somewhat uncomprehendingly at the television. Heero thought about offering him a seat on the couch in the empty space between himself and Quatre. Quatre probably would have liked that, but Heero had no real desire to sit next to Trowa -- so he said nothing and let him keep standing. 

"He may not know what basketball _is_," Quatre was saying in a teasing tone. "I don't think he even has a TV." 

"No TV?!" Duo demanded in horror. "Trowa, when did you become such a godless heathen?" 

"When television was invented, apparently," replied Trowa. 

"Well, at least have some pizza," Quatre offered, holding up the plate that contained what was left. 

"No, thank you. When is your game over?" 

"Maybe about ten more minutes." The proffered pizza was retracted with, Heero thought, some displeasure. 

"I'll come back," said Trowa with a nod. "There's a spell I want to try." 

This caught everyone's interest, but Trowa was already moving toward his door again, evidently not planning to offer any more details. So they all turned back to the game until such time as he should satisfy their curiosity. Heero thought Duo's attention span for basketball had significantly waned, however. Which was really for the best, he supposed, at least for Duo; what was the point of having a boyfriend if you didn't find him more fascinating than television?


	23. Part 22

  


Quatre had intended to leave immediately after the game, but the opportunity to watch Trowa working magic was not one to be missed. This entire business really was wreaking havoc on everything Quatre needed to get done at home. 

A large square board of some sort, carried very carefully under one arm, and a box full of candles accompanied Trowa when he returned. Quatre and Heero watched in silence as he knelt down, laid the board on the floor beside Duo's table, and set the box next to it. Heero didn't look entirely pleased at the idea of something to do with candles taking place on his carpet, but evidently didn't think it enough of a concern to say anything yet. 

Duo was also watching, from the table's edge to which he'd painstakingly levered himself, but not in silence. "That's really familiar," he remarked when the network of careful lines on the black-painted board became visible. After a moment he added thoughtfully, "It looks like our end of the Wade." 

Trowa nodded, and picked up the first of his candles in one hand. The other held a piece of chalk. He tapped a spot where two lines converged. "This was where the first grocer in the district opened his store." 

"I remember that!" Duo agreed. "Took 'em long enough, too... that racist guy on 7th street wouldn't serve half the people across the river, so they had to go clear to the south end market to go shopping." 

"It was convenient for us, too," Trowa said, drawing a circle around the spot and setting the first candle in it. 

"Yeah," laughed Duo, "finally someplace that was close enough for the vegetables not to wilt by the time we got them home!" 

"Not that we bought many vegetables." 

Duo laughed again. 

"And here--" Trowa tapped another spot-- "was the printers' that put out that awful rag for so long." 

"Hey," Duo protested, "I loved that paper!" 

"Their 'news' was always at least two days old," Trowa reminded him emotionlessly, "and it wasn't always true." 

"Welllll..." Evidently Duo couldn't argue with this. "We still wouldn't have survived without them, and we got to know the city really well selling those things. Besides, that was the only paper most of the waders could afford most of the time." 

Trowa nodded, circled this second spot, and set a candle on it. 

"I bet the next one's that church that used to give us lemonade if we came around on Sunday afternoons," said Duo eagerly. 

Quatre had been watching and listening in almost breathless interest, and now he really did catch his breath as Trowa looked up at Duo again and actually smiled. It was a faint, sad smile, but it was the first Quatre had ever seen on that face and was, as he had anticipated, enchanting. He had a feeling, though, and not for the first time, as Trowa and Duo reminisced about their early years, that this was all a little too personal for him and Heero to be listening to. It was nothing like what he'd expected when Trowa had said 'spell.' 

"Yes," Trowa was saying, indicating the point where lemonade had evidently been served to pious urchins. "Do you remember the woman with the peacock-feather hat?" 

"Yeah, I was just going to say!" Duo cried. "And how we always tried to wait 'til she was gone because she'd always make us tell her what the _sermon_ was about, and most of the time we hadn't actually been to it?" 

"And you always looked up at her with your eyes wide and said, 'God, ma'am, and the commandments.'" 

"And it wasn't a lie because that's what _all_ the sermons were about," Duo chortled, "but she'd get so annoyed because she wanted to hear us say we were miserable sinners!" 

"I believe the building is still there," said Trowa as a third circle and a third candle took their places at his hands, "but I don't think it's used as a church anymore." And his chalk moved on. "And here was where Jaelle Petulengro lived." 

"Yes! With her fifteen dogs!" 

"Only five," Trowa corrected. 

"Whatever," said Duo, his little plastic mouth stretching into a grin. "She still had to burn all that incense all the time because the place smelled like pee. I don't know how she ever had any business in there." 

"By catering to people like us." 

"Yeah, but she hardly ever charged _us_." 

"Only because she thought of us like her own children." Trowa drew a circle around the old woman's spot and stood the second-to-last candle there. "And this?" he asked as he tapped a fifth point on the chalk-marked board. 

After considering for a moment Duo said, "That house we always used to want to live in." 

"That's right." 

"And it took us ten years to realize that it wasn't really anything special," chuckled Duo, "just bigger than the ones on our street." 

"It did have its own yard," Trowa reminded him, circling it and setting down the final candle. 

Duo made some comment about the house in question having seemed like a giant mansion to them when they were ten, but Quatre was distracted from his words by the brief glow that rose from the board as Trowa withdrew his hand: faint lines connecting the five candles, soft but brighter than the chalk-marks they topped, had shone out for a moment and then faded. _That_ was more like what he'd been expecting, and the fact that Trowa had formed a pentagram by linking together memories from the days before the curse interested him quite a bit. 

"And here is where we lived." Trowa tapped a spot in the center of the five candles. 

"Well, this looks very solid," Duo said in a tone of commendation as Trowa rose up and took him in his hand. "Is this to scale, though? I mean," he explained as Trowa set him down on that last-referenced spot, "were those things all _exactly_ that far from our place?" 

"Close enough," Trowa replied. 

"Well, that's good enough for me," Duo grinned. "What do you want me thinking about this time?" 

"Those days. What it felt like to be human." And without even the slightest change in his level, emotionless tone, he went on in a completely different language. At his words, the candles all simultaneously lit, startling the two non-magical watchers but not seeming at all to surprise Duo. 

"Can do," the latter was saying. "Actually, it's getting me to _stop_ dwelling on that stuff that's the hard part." 

Trowa sighed quietly, doubtless at this reminder of a suffering for which he still felt responsible. Then he held out his hands over the pure white flames of the candles as if gathering warmth into his palms, which he subsequently rubbed slowly together. Quatre shifted a half-step closer as Heero at his side also moved slightly. Both of them were looking down in silent interest, extremely curious about what would happen next. 

Again in the unfamiliar language from which Quatre couldn't pick even one single word he could have imitated, Trowa began to speak. The phrase that formed his spell did not seem terribly long -- though this was little more than a guess on Quatre's part -- but Trowa spoke so slowly as to draw it out for more than half a minute. 

As he finished, the lines of the pentagram flashed into being again, brighter this time, and suddenly _everything_ \-- the entire room? the entire world? certainly Quatre's entire field of vision -- filled with an indistinct brilliance, a sort of glowing haze that momentarily blinded him. Beside him, Heero made a surprised noise and took a step back. 

Shapes and colors came slowly into view again, and Quatre saw that Trowa was still kneeling on the carpet and now had fists clenched on his knees and a decided frown on his face. Even as Quatre's eyes sought him out he spoke again: more words in the strange language, this time a shorter phrase and discernibly agitated. But their only effect, as far as Quatre could tell, was to extinguish the flames and make all the lines on the board -- the magical ones _and_ the chalk-marks -- disappear. Duo was left sitting in a field of black in the center of five unlit candles. 

"Dammit," Trowa murmured. 

Duo sighed quietly. Then, in a tone that was obviously meant to be cheering, he said, "You're going to have to specify next time, 'And don't just show me the stupid moon, OK?'" 

Trowa's hand moved to cup around Duo's back in a movement almost caressing, and then he slowly lifted the doll back onto the end table. Without a word he began replacing the candles in their box. 

"Trowa," Duo insisted, "it's _all right_." 

With an indrawn breath, Trowa opened his mouth as if to reply, then closed it again and shook his head. He stood, lifted the box, pulled the board up under his arm, and turned. 

"Trowa!" said Duo again, and now there was a touch of desperation to his voice. "This one didn't work, but maybe the next one will. Don't--" 

"I'm not giving up," Trowa broke in harshly. He'd already pulled his door open, and without looking back he was gone. 

"I wasn't going to say that!" Duo yelled futilely after him. His yell wasn't much louder than his regular speech, but the tone was angry and unhappy. "'Don't blame yourself,' I was going to say, dumbass!" He made a frustrated noise, and then his voice sank to a miserable low. "As if I'd ever think you would give up on me." And then complete silence fell.


	24. Part 23

  


Heero was staring at Duo. Quatre was staring at Trowa's door. None of them were saying anything, and it was dragging on. Intense curiosity and the desire to be comforting and the awareness that there really wasn't much to say that could comfort someone in such a situation and a tight, unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach in response to Duo's last words all warred inside Heero, and he felt it safer, at least at first, to say nothing at all. 

It was Duo himself, in fact, that eventually broke the silence. "Well, that sucked." He added with a sort of false cheerfulness determined to put a good face on a bad situation, "Another day as a doll, here we go!" Before either of the others could think of anything to say in reply, he went on in a more genuinely pleased tone, "He's _really_ gotten good, though! I wonder how long it took him to come up with that ritual..." 

This remark sounded very much like permission for them to ask questions, if not in so many words. Heero got his in first, moving to retake his previous seat on the sofa next to the end table: "What was the point of remembering all those places?" 

"Oh... well... It's kinda hard to explain." Duo's tone seemed to indicate he would have been scratching his head if he'd been human. Heero had never met anyone with such an expressive range of vocal inflection, and wondered if it was a skill Duo had always possessed or whether he'd developed it over the long years of having such a limited array of other forms of non-verbal expression. 

"See, that was actually a divination trying to find out how to change me back -- so I might have had another day as a doll anyway even if he'd gotten his answer, depending on what it was. Anyway, there's another kind of magic I could never do -- I can't do divination either; I could only ever do your basic making-things-happen kind of magic -- but this other stuff's all about the mind: communication, mind reading, getting power from thoughts and memories and stuff. So he was using memories of before the curse to help divine how to get back to that -- making a sort of connection back to those days to grab some extra power." 

"OK..." Heero nodded slowly. "That makes sense." 

"Really?" Duo grinned. "Awesome." 

"What did you mean about the moon?" was the next question, this one from Quatre. 

"Oh, that's the answer that keeps coming back on all these divinations. Not very helpful, since we _know_ it was that stupid lunar artifact that did this." 

"You know," Quatre said thoughtfully, "I've been over there a few times now, and I don't know if I've seen the thing. What exactly _is_ it?" 

Since Quatre had posed his question, Heero had been puzzling over it in the back of his head even as he listened. He'd thought Quatre's experience watching Trowa's spell had been the same as his, but in that case why should Quatre need to ask this? 

Duo was saying, "I think Trowa said it was--" when Heero broke in: 

"Quatre, didn't you see the moon?" He made an apologetic gesture at Duo for his interruption and went on, "After the first thing Trowa said, didn't you get a sort of vision of the moon blocking out everything else?" 

Quatre stared at him. "No, just a bunch of light. Did you?" 

"Yeah," replied Heero a little uneasily. "It was very clear." 

"What does that mean? That you saw it and I didn't?" 

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then as one turned to Duo for the answer. 

The doll didn't have a great variety of facial expressions. There was his default blank look, which reminded Heero disturbingly of the Kens he'd seen at the stores, and there was a wider and far less creepy grin; then he could wink either of his eyes, but that was about the extent of it. At the moment, however, it looked as if he was trying very hard to give an amused, interested smile as he replied, "Off the top of my head, I'd say it means Heero has magical abilities and Quatre doesn't." 

"Really?" Quatre turned a grin much like the one Duo was attempting toward his friend, apparently not at all bothered that he might be left out of the magical loop. 

"Me?" Heero wondered in surprise at the same moment, almost certain he didn't like the idea. 

"I could be wrong," said Duo in his 'shrug' tone. "But that's usually what it means when you get a vision during a divination." 

Quatre looked very much as a proud parent might after a child's successful musical recital, and also a little as if he found the revelation rather funny. 

Heero, on the other hand, couldn't quite accept it. "Is this magical ability anything like Ken's bi-curious phase in the 90's?" he wondered, a sardonic tone covering up his continual unease. 

Duo laughed, half reminiscent and half rueful. "You're never going to believe anything I say ever again, are you?" He grinned. "If you can find another explanation for why you got a vision that's only supposed to appear to magicians..." 

Heero frowned. "Shouldn't I have noticed a little earlier, though? Can you have magic for twenty-four years without knowing it?" 

"You have to be around magic for your own magic to wake up," Duo explained. "So presumably you could go your entire _life_ without knowing it. For me and Trowa it was this old gypsy lady in our neighborhood -- the one with the five dogs. For you, apparently, it was yours truly." 

This silenced Heero utterly. He didn't really disbelieve it, and the thought that it had only come about because of Duo made things a little better. At the same time, however, there was something disconcertingly... intimate... something far more appealing than it had any right to be when Duo was so unavailable... about the thought that Duo, by his mere presence, had awakened something heretofore unknown inside of Heero... and this made things, in another sense, much, much worse. 

Quatre the perceptive friend jumped right in to rescue him. "Well, that's exciting!" he said brightly. "You can learn to do all sorts of cool stuff, and maybe some of those message board posts will start to make sense!" 

"Yeah," Heero replied gruffly. 

"You don't _have to_, though," said Duo reassuringly, evidently misinterpreting the discomfort Heero had been unable entirely to hide. 

Heero forced a faint laugh. 

"Well, I've got to go home," Quatre said, somewhat reluctantly. "But I'll see you both tomorrow." 

Heero rather wished Quatre could have waited until they'd come up with a change of subject before leaving, but understood this wasn't necessarily possible. "OK," he said. 

"More basketball tomorrow, right?" Duo wondered eagerly. 

Quatre cheerfully confirmed this assumption as he located his briefcase, and then he was gone. Heero was glad the subject had been brought up -- now he could talk about tomorrow's game until he left the room to go to bed, and leave thinking about Duo awakening his magical potential until he was alone.


	25. Part 24

An entire week off at such short notice for two employees that everyone knew were friends and many suspected were more than friends was something only a Regional Manager could procure, and then only with the understanding that said Regional Manager would still be on call for every little emergency that upper management (nearly all of whom were relations) wanted dealt with at his level. Quatre was satisfied.

He also didn't consider it in any way inappropriate to leave just a little earlier than usual today. If anyone had asked him why, he could easily have made the excuse of wanting to beat traffic and get to Heero's apartment before the game started. Which _was_ true. And which _would_ have caused some speculations among those that had an incorrect idea of his relationship with Heero that he _would_ have considered inappropriate. But nobody asked him.

It hadn't been an easy day to get through -- even just reaching lunch time was more along the lines of 'nightmarish' -- but when he saw how much worse Heero was taking it Quatre could at least be pleased with his own powers of concentration. Of course, _he_ didn't have to deal with the sales floor. Yes, some time off was exactly what they needed. A week should be enough for them to get things sorted out, and then they could come back to work and be productive employees again.

Admittedly this sorting out might well involve Duo's curse being broken, and then he would undoubtedly be off with Trowa, and then Quatre and Heero would never see them again and would be left in the 'getting over an unrequited crush' stage and be very _mopey_ productive employees... but the result, and hence the basic concept, was largely unaltered.

Though the same thought had evidently crossed Heero's mind, he also seemed quite pleased at the prospect of a week off. And the moment he was back home and with Duo, he seemed fine in every respect. He'd evidently even gotten over the discomfort of last night regarding the magic thing, and could talk cheerfully to Duo about basketball and whatever else came up.

Quatre, however, was not nearly so at ease. It wasn't that he paid _no_ attention to the game... it was just that his eyes were on the door in the wall almost as often as they were on the TV. How likely it was that Trowa would come in here two nights in a row he didn't know, but he could hope. Heero noticed his behavior and gave him a look or two, but Quatre couldn't stop himself. And the very moment the game was over, he was off the couch and headed for Trowa's door.

"Oh, are you going to go check on him?" Duo wondered. "Good."

Reflecting on the absurdity of 'checking on' someone that had gotten along for ninety years without this service, Quatre replied that he was, and Heero gave him another look. This Quatre ignored, and went into Trowa's house.

Once again, the moment he stepped into the entry, he was greeted by Trowa's query, "Who's there?" from what Quatre was coming to think of as the study.

"It's me," he replied as he entered that room.

Trowa didn't look up from whatever he was doing at his table, nor did he have anything at all to say in response to Quatre's identification of self, and it occurred suddenly to Quatre to wonder exactly _why_ he had a crush on this man. As he went closer, into the globe of soft-edged light from the single lamp, and saw the disarray of the table and once again the now-cold remains of a cup of tea, he considered that pathos definitely had something to do with it. It had always been his habit -- rather unfortunately, he thought -- to assign greater importance to early impressions than they probably deserved, and Trowa had certainly been pathetic during that first meeting. And it had also always been one of Quatre's habits to feel a greater-than-usual interest in anyone he pitied.

Other than that, though... an attractive face and body, a mystique consequent upon being a taciturn hundred-year-old wizard... and what else was there? It was true there was something to be said for instinct, but Quatre couldn't help feeling a bit shallow. What did he _really_ know about Trowa?

As he came to stand beside the table and the armchair drawn up to it, Trowa finally looked at him -- sluggishly, as if his eyes were reluctant to release what they'd been studying and move elsewhere. But when they rose far enough for Quatre to see them, he took an inadvertent step backward in surprise.

From the first, Quatre had noted the unnatural brightness and vibrant hue of Trowa's eyes, and if he'd thought about it would have realized that this was probably caused at least in part by color contacts. These were obviously absent now, baring the two glowing moons, nearly at the full, that Trowa had in place of the more traditional irises and pupils.

"Yes," Trowa said impassively as Quatre stared, "if you come in here without warning, you may see things you won't like."

Quatre shook his head, as much to clear away his startlement and break off his riveted gaze as to deny the implication. "Well, they're definitely a surprise," he admitted, "but I don't think..." He trailed off.

For Trowa had stood abruptly, taken a step forward, and put his pale face much closer to Quatre's than anyone that wasn't flirting or instigating a fistfight generally did. "Take a good look," he said emotionlessly, "so you won't have to stare again later."

It didn't really matter that it might be a little shallow to be infatuated with someone without knowing much about him; the infatuation was there whether he liked it or not. And it was evident that Trowa had rather fallen out of synch with the rest of the human world in the last however many decades, since leaning like that was a _blatant_ invitation to be kissed and he obviously didn't know it. Quatre would gladly have enlightened him, in a very practical way, if Trowa hadn't been someone else's boyfriend.

Quatre also managed, while these thoughts were passing through his head, to take the adjured good look at the eyes in question. They were nicely-shaped eyes. The strange glowing moons _were_ somewhat disconcerting, especially when they moved as irises and pupils would have done, but they were also very interesting: peering intently, Quatre could make out a familiar pattern of craters in tiny detail on each one.

The moons didn't really detract from the overall picture once you were accustomed to them, either; a more remarkable feature, in fact, was the lashes. Funny he hadn't noticed before... Trowa had the thickest, most obscenely long and beautiful lashes Quatre had ever seen on a man. They swept down over his eyes when he blinked in very much the same way his hair fell across his face: a sort of soft veiling motion that almost invited more than it concealed.

Abruptly Trowa broke their locked gaze, turning back to his table and picking up his teacup and saucer with a clatter. Then he moved past Quatre out of the room.

Quatre took a deep, steadying breath, and moved slowly to follow.


	26. Part 25

  


Trowa was rinsing out his cup in the kitchen sink without looking at it. In the back of his head arose the vague thought that he could do with some more tea, but it never jumped the synapse to the next concept over of _making_ more tea. So he dried the cup, again without looking at it, and put it away. Then he rested his hands on the counter and continued to stare blankly across the dark room -- he hadn't bothered to turn the lights on when he came in here -- thinking about nothing. He would have liked to think he was thinking about spells and what he'd been working on all day, but what he'd been working on all day had been practically nothing. 

"So..." 

Oh, yes, and Quatre was in his house again. The fact that Quatre was _still_ in his house again despite having seen his eyes was interesting, apropos of nothing. 

"Yes?" 

Undoubtedly Quatre was going to ask, and Trowa was going to have to explain. Curses were arbitrarily cruel things that would stab you in the heart just as readily as they stabbed you in the back, and the necessity of explaining this particular effect of this particular curse had become just another effect of the curse. And now Quatre would ask, and Trowa would have to talk about it. 

But what Quatre actually asked was, "Do you know how to play Blitz?" 

Trowa looked over at him, broken from his empty stare by the unexpected nature of this question. "No." 

"I'll teach you, if you want to play." Quatre held up a pack of cards that Trowa recognized as his own. He occasionally played solitaire to regulate his thoughts, and, though he didn't remember when he'd last done so or where the cards had been, Quatre had obviously spotted and seized them. 

Turning fully to face his guest, Trowa wondered, "Why?" 

Quatre reached out to the light switch and brought the room to better visibility. "Last night's spell was really interesting," he said, not exactly answering the question. "And Duo said you've gotten really good, and wondered how long it took you to come up with that. I'm sorry it didn't work." 

Trowa felt his mouth tighten, and he left the kitchen and went around the dining table toward the windows at the far side of the room. As he stared out into the darkness of his overgrown little yard, he heard Quatre moving toward him. 

"You've been working on magic stuff for god knows how long without a break," Quatre went on matter-of-factly, "and it would probably be a good idea to think about something else for a while." 

Quatre had evidently stopped at the table. There was the sound of cards being shuffled, and Trowa pondered the situation. He couldn't quite figure out what Quatre was after. He hadn't asked for anything yet, not even some pointless display of magic to gawp at; he seemed genuinely concerned with Duo's predicament, and Trowa's state as it related thereto; and he hadn't wondered, at least aloud, about Trowa's eyes. Any one of these things by itself Trowa might have been able to deal with, but all together they formed a sort of barrier to comprehension. 

Then there was the fact that Trowa had no idea what to do next for Duo. His hopeless, rambling research since last night's failed attempt at getting information had been slowing more and more as the day progressed, until by the time Quatre had entered he'd simply been staring at a book without any real idea of what was in front of his eyes. At a point like that, Quatre was absolutely right: it was about time to think of something else for a while. And why not some inane card game he'd never heard of with his enigmatic new fan? 

"All right," he said, turning, and took a seat at the table across from Quatre. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd been anticipating. The rules were just simple enough to make the game relatively mindless, the sort of soothing, repetitive exercise that calmed the nerves and put the brain back into some sort of ordered channel without too much effort. Then, Quatre did not require him to speak except as the game demanded, and in fact filled the silence himself with talk that was a good deal less tiresome than Trowa would have expected. 

For example, as they played Quatre told him, "I'm the youngest of ten, and my two sisters -- the next ones up -- we used to play a lot of card games when I was eight or nine. They were just enough older to take advantage of me every single time, and I was just young enough to be completely unable to catch them or to ever prove anything even though I was suspicious. They would announce rules they 'forgot to mention' in the middle of the game -- usually whenever things were going my way -- to make sure I lost, and, when I protested, they'd back each other up and act all innocent. 

"And then they started betting things. I don't even really know how they kept getting me to play with them, when I knew I always lost and they'd end up taking my stuff. I guess it was because they would bet things of theirs that I really wanted -- things they never would have really given me even if I had won -- things I was too dazzled by the prospect of owning to be smart about not playing made-up card games with sisters who cheated all the time. Eventually my parents found out, and it became a new family rule that dad or mom had to be present for all card games between minors." 

To his own surprise, Trowa found himself asking, "Did you get your things back?" 

Quatre grinned. "Not only that, but the next game, under mom's supervision, I won an entire _Deadpool_ mini-series off my sister fair and square. I still have it, too." 

Trowa wondered, and not for the first time, what it would have been like to be a child, instead of an antisocial young elderly man, in the 90's. 

Quatre went on to tell him about that same sister's successful career in an advertising firm and ongoing unlucrative side-projects as a 'real artist' -- all of which was moderately interesting, required no comment from Trowa, and got them through a number of games of Blitz. 

When the clock struck three, Quatre looked around, startled. Then he shook his head. "I forget it's three hours ahead here. Where are we, by the way?" Trowa told him, and Quatre nodded. "I should come around in the day some time and see the town." He stood and began gathering the cards, both from the tabletop and from Trowa's lax hands. "For now I'll let you get back to work." He smiled. 

If Trowa had been a bit more flippant, even just inside his own head, he might have started a countdown at this point. As it was, he was simply satisfied with knowing it was coming. 

"But you should probably get some sleep instead," Quatre said, precisely as expected. "Reset your brain, and then you'll work better tomorrow." 

And the worst part was that he was _right_. At least he hadn't said anything about food this time. Trowa just nodded. 

Quatre set down the pack of cards neatly filled and closed. "Good night," he said, and smiled again before turning. He had a remarkably warm, welcoming smile, especially for someone that hadn't asked for anything yet -- so much that Trowa thought the room actually seemed a little darker once he was gone. Not that it really mattered. 

But then the moment he was alone, Trowa found himself wondering what in the world _Deadpool_ was.


	27. Part 26

Heero was not a morning person. He did what he had to, of course (part of which was being to work on time at eight every day), but in general the world before ten o'clock seemed to him something like the setting of a horror movie -- and the monsters were those perky people that could do equations and complicated analysis and be polite to obnoxious others at only the slightest notice upon awakening. On Saturdays he made sure to stay safely in bed until the coast was clear.

The problem with sleeping late, however, was that, no matter how nice it felt to awaken in his own time without an alarm, he was always rather sluggish for a while unless he had some specific task to see to immediately. Most weekends this didn't bother him, but right now, with Duo around, he preferred to be a little more alert. So as soon as he was out of bed, he turned on some music a little louder than was his habit, and headed for the kitchen to start his coffee immediately.

"Good morning!" Duo greeted him cheerfully from his end table.

Before replying, Heero reminded himself firmly that Duo couldn't sleep and therefore could be neither night person _nor_ morning person at this point. "Morning," he finally said.

Duo had muted the television with the remote lying by his side; as Heero got the coffee going he asked, "So what are we listening to?"

It occurred to Heero that he was a little too accustomed to living alone; he hadn't even considered that his wakeup music might inconvenience Duo. This, of course, sent his thoughts out to the happy field of 'living with Duo,' whence he quickly reined them in because that kind of thinking wouldn't do anyone any good. "Prisn," he answered the question.

"Never heard of it," said Duo promptly.

"Yeah, most people haven't," Heero yawned. Turning his back on the gurgling of the coffee-maker, he leaned against the counter and looked at Duo. "So what kind of music do you like?"

"Mexican circus music," Duo replied after a moment's thought.

Halfway through another yawn, Heero felt his brows contract in confusion. "What?"

"Well, I don't know if it's really Mexican or what..." Duo waved an arm vaguely. "In one place I lived, there was a Mexican family next door, and they used to play this stuff really loud so we could hear it too. Drove my kid's parents crazy. It was this really cheerful, upbeat stuff that sounded like what you hear in circus scenes in movies, and it was all in Spanish. I think." As a sort of aside he added, "I speak maybe ten words of Spanish, and that's Wade Spanish anyway."

"And that's..." Heero stared at him. "That's your _favorite_ music? Something you heard through a wall and didn't understand?"

"You asked." It was Duo's 'shrug' tone, but there was a grin involved as well.

"But..." Heero couldn't quite explain why this baffled him so much. How could someone over a century old be so lacking in any decisive opinion about music? "Didn't you live through the jazz era? Didn't you pretty much live through the development of all modern styles of music?"

"Well, yeah, but mostly with kids! I mean, if _you_ had to listen to things like Mr. Green Jeans and Muffy Mouse and Hanna Montana for seventy years, you'd appreciate some Mexican circus music too!"

Heero laughed. "OK, I see your point." Then he moved forward, picked up Duo in the hand that wasn't holding his newly-filled coffee mug, and headed for the hallway. "But I think this is something we need to fix."

"Onward!" cried Duo in his small voice as he was carried away from the place he'd occupied for almost the entire time he'd spent in Heero's apartment.

Entering his bedroom, Heero felt a slight, unaccustomed embarrassment about its state. It was true that he only tolerated mess up to a point, but he knew that sometimes that point was farther along the clutter scale than others' -- certainly farther along than Quatre's. However, the only thing Duo had to say was, "Ooh, I finally get to see your _bedroom_." Which Heero really should have been expecting.

"Yes," replied Heero calmly, and then just couldn't help adding, "Remember what I told you about being a very good boy?"

"Is _that_ what we're doing?" Duo said in a deliberate tone of pleased surprise. "I mean, that's definitely something we need to fix too, but I thought you were talking about music."

Deciding that he probably couldn't get away with the response he was considering, Heero just chuckled again as he set Duo down on his dresser next to his CD player. The doll began swiveling his head back and forth in a wide arc, examining the room. "Oh, you've got that cool hands-drawing-each-other picture," he commented, waving an arm.

Heero nodded, unzipping the binder that held his CD's and beginning to flip through it. Duo turned his painted eyes in that direction and watched him. "So what do you call this stuff?"

"What stuff?" Heero looked up at him, forgetting that there would be no facial expression from which to obtain a hint about Duo's meaning. Not that he minded looking at Duo: it was always thought-provoking to see the plastic body in those little clothes Heero had bought beneath the long and bizarrely realistic hair, and Heero still liked to imagine what Duo would look like as a human.

"This music that's playing," Duo said.

"Oh. Well, this group's ten fans," replied Heero ironically, "call it 'experimental-hard-rock-slash-neo-classical-fusion.'"

"How pretentious," remarked Duo in his 'grin' tone.

Heero shrugged. "It sounds better than 'our orchestra has electric guitars.'"

"You know how weird it's been to watch this whole 'genre' thing develop?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's half a million different kinds of just 'rock' now, aren't there? I mean, I remember where all there was on the radio was 'pop' -- and for a while they were calling _all_ of that 'rock'n'roll' -- and 'country-western.'"

"Really?" Heero had found the CD he wanted, and was spinning it somewhat absently around his finger while he waited for the song currently playing to end. "No classical or jazz or anything?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess there was that... But you didn't hear people talking about 'trance' and 'thrash metal' and whatever the difference between 'hip-hop' and 'rap' is... which, by the way, what is it?"

"I'm..." Heero grimaced. "...not really sure..."

"Can't be important, then," declared Duo.

Heero's expression needed very little alteration to go from grimace to grin. "OK, you've heard enough Prisn; now listen to this." And he switched the CD.

"All right," Duo agreed jovially.

They might not have found Duo a new favorite, or even broadened his musical horizons to any great extent, but Heero at least was enjoying himself so much that he rather lost track of the rest of the world for a while. He was only brought back to it, with something of an unpleasant jolt, when Duo remarked eventually, "Trowa really likes jazz."

Because it always came back to Trowa, didn't it?

When Heero had nothing to say in response to this, Duo went on a little wistfully, "At least he used to. He was pretty good at clarinet back in the day. Of course he was almost completely self-taught... we sure couldn't afford music lessons. I wonder if he still plays..."

So Trowa was musical as well as magical, was he? Heero restrained himself from remarking sourly that he bet Trowa _did_ still play, and had been practicing for ninety years and was now a virtuoso -- whereas the extent of Heero's musical inclinations was occasionally singing along with something when he was absolutely certain nobody could see or hear him.

He looked around, letting life come back into focus, and realized with a start what the time was. "Oh, Quatre's going to be here soon to watch the game," he said. "I'd better get dressed."

"Aw, you're going to change out of those sexy pajama pants?" Duo complained.

Feeling his face go abruptly hot, Heero glanced down at his cotton pants and their repeating pattern of Optimus Prime's face. "Yes," he said, and was pleased at how levelly he managed it.

"Well, do I at least get to watch?"

If Duo's tone hadn't been so clearly joking, Heero did not doubt that his own face would have gone even more red than it probably already was. In any case, he took care not to let Duo see it as he picked him up. "No," he said in the same level tone.

Duo made an exaggerated sound of disappointment as Heero carried him back into the living room and replaced him on his end table. A moment later, before Heero had even reached his bedroom door again, the sound of the TV coming back on floated down the hall. And Heero went to change contemplating how frustrating words could sometimes be that otherwise might have been exactly what you wanted to hear.


	28. Part 27

  


So he liked Heero.

Duo had unmuted the television, it was true, but he wasn't paying it any attention. His view of the hallway was mostly blocked, but he thought what he was doing could still accurately be called 'looking after Heero.' And if he'd had the luxury of a facial expression, it would have been pensive indeed.

The last time he'd been even remotely romantically interested in anyone had been eighty-seven years ago. Oh, sure, he'd always been able to recognize attractiveness when he encountered it, and there _had_ been that whole coming-out thing in the 60's... but it had all been almost more clinical than anything else -- observations that led nowhere. And he'd never really thought about why he'd spent so long without anyone specifically catching his eye. But he was thinking about it now. Why exactly had this been the case? Surely over the course of nearly nine decades he should have met _someone_ to interest him...

Admittedly he'd spend a good percentage of that time with children, but he'd gotten to know his fair share of adults as well. Also, he was a doll, but so what? His mind was the same, wasn't it? Or had Trowa been right, all those years ago -- was Duo really so petty and superficial that he couldn't even fathom liking someone without the possibility of attendant physicality?

And, more importantly perhaps than why it had been like this for so long, what had changed now? Because _something_ had. Was it Duo? Was something inside him maturing to allow a new interest after so long without any? Or was Heero just that overwhelmingly attractive? Perhaps it was more that Duo had some hope of regaining his humanity sometime soon, and so was allowing himself to notice humans in that light again.

He laughed helplessly at himself. This was all just another observation that led nowhere, since Heero was still clearly uninterested. Which hadn't been a problem when Duo was idly reflecting that he _might_ at some point start thinking of Heero as more than a friend, but could prove somewhat annoying now that he actually had.

Little time was available for him to dwell on this (which was probably for the best), as a knock sounded on the door and Heero reappeared, fully dressed, to let Quatre in. Evidently it was Heero's turn to provide snacks again, for Quatre was empty-handed. Duo was getting the hang of these sports-oriented get-togethers.

That Duo had gone over a century without ever learning the joys of basketball seemed incredible. It was always interesting (and, to be frank, somewhat annoying) just how many things he'd never seen or done. Immortals were supposed to be knowledgeable and experienced, weren't they? In the vampire movies, they always spoke a dozen languages and had contacts everywhere and loads of money. Duo spoke only English, could have counted his friends on one hand if his fingers separated, and didn't even have any way to _make_ money.

But he did like basketball. Movie immortals never did that. And they didn't know what they were missing.

He liked Heero, too. This fact was rapidly becoming inescapable. The way Heero shook his fist and half-growled out commendations at the team he was supporting, a much less obtrusive celebration than Quatre's cheers or the victory dances Duo would undoubtedly have done if he'd been capable, had an intense, subtle sort of happiness behind it that Duo enjoyed seeing almost as much as the skillful plays that inspired it.

Perhaps as a direct result of this, Duo was struck with the thought that _playing_ basketball with Heero might be even more fun than watching basketball with Heero. Of course, the idea of playing _anything_ was pleasant, for obvious reasons... but basketball in particular, especially with Heero, seemed like fun. He couldn't be sure, of course -- it had still been a relatively new sport back when Duo might have had the option to play it, and limited mostly to venues he didn't frequent -- and besides that was a pipe dream at this point anyway, but even so he had to express his curiosity on the subject.

During the next commercial break, therefore, he asked, "So do you guys ever _play_ this game?"

"Sometimes," Quatre replied, while at the same moment Heero said, "Every once in a while." And they exchanged a look, the spontaneity and mutuality of which was comical even if the expression itself was not.

"What?" wondered Duo, amused.

"Two-on-two is more fun than one-on-one," Quatre explained with a smile, "but we have a hard time persuading our friends -- the friends we play stuff with -- to play basketball. They're fine with tennis--"

"As long as they can use racquets that cost at least $300," Heero put in.

"--but they don't think much of basketball. I think they find it a little..." Quatre trailed off as if unsure of the word he wanted.

"Ghetto," Heero supplied.

Duo laughed, but could question no further as the commercials were over. Once a new set arrived, however, he pursued the subject. "So these snobby friends of yours who won't play basketball... they wouldn't happen to be the same ones who are always playing matchmaker at you guys?"

Quatre threw him a surprised look. "Yes, they are." And he glanced at Heero as if to ask, _"What have you been telling him?"_

Pleased to have put these pieces together, Duo sat back (figuratively speaking) to enjoy the rest of the game.

Thereafter, Quatre announced his intention to check that Trowa had eaten something today before he went home, much to Duo's satisfaction. It was silly to worry about not having seen his friend since Thursday when he hadn't seen him for almost ninety years and Trowa had been just fine, but that didn't make Duo any less pleased that Quatre was going to check on him.

"And I need to do my laundry," Heero said as Quatre disappeared into Trowa's house.

"Ooh, can I come with?" Duo requested.

Heero gave him a very skeptical look and said, "Why?"

"Just to spend more time in your scintillating presence," Duo replied in a tone that indicated this should have been obvious.

"I don't think you pronounce the 'c' in 'scintillating,'" Heero said.

"Yeah, maybe not," Duo allowed. "So can I come with you?"

Heero's face took on a pensive expression that Duo knew very well. It was the look that said he was pondering the logistics of carrying a talking doll to wherever it was he did laundry -- never very promising. What, then, was Duo's pleasure when Heero suddenly grinned and said, "Why not? You can sit in the laundry basket."

"I get to sit in the laauundry basket, I get to sit in the laauundry basket," Duo sang cheerfully as Heero went to fetch what he needed. He had a feeling this was going to be a good weekend.


	29. Part 28

  


Quatre awoke on Monday morning at about his usual time, and for a good ten seconds was somewhat distressed and disoriented because his alarm hadn't sounded. Then he remembered the last-minute plans for a week off, and relaxed. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he thought for a while about what he meant to do today, then finally got up with a smile.

Although the purpose of these days off wasn't to waste a lot of time doing nothing, Quatre had no objection to adopting a leisurely pace in what he did need to get done. This included jogging, some tidying up at home, his laundry, playing with the dogs for a little while, and, eventually, a trip to a grocery store. But he was anything but leisurely when, late in the morning (EST), he marched into Trowa's house with his grocery bags and an expression of determination.

"Who's there?" called Trowa from the study as usual, but Quatre did not enter that room this time. Instead, he identified himself and went straight into the kitchen.

At the store, he'd concentrated on finding things that wouldn't go bad quickly -- crackers and canned food and microwaveable frozen stuff -- and was pretty pleased with his results. They certainly made Trowa's almost completely barren cupboards and freezer look a little less forlorn.

"What are you doing?" Trowa had emerged so quietly that Quatre hadn't noticed he was in the room until this moment. Quatre turned, a little startled, to find Trowa staring blankly at where he was trying to decide on a good place to put microwave popcorn.

"I brought you food," Quatre answered.

"Yes... Why?"

Quatre had come prepared for this question. The argument that Trowa would feel better and work better if he ate regularly had thus far been entirely ineffectual, so Quatre had specifically planned on approaching this from another angle. "Do you know," he said conversationally, "what Duo said yesterday when I told him how often you don't eat?"

He was beginning to recognize the tiny signs of discontent Trowa gave on occasion, and now saw clearly the very slight drawing-together of brows at his question. "He complained about not being able to eat," Trowa guessed dully.

"Well, yes," Quatre conceded. "But he also said that somebody needs to come over here and force you to start eating on a daily basis. Obviously he can't do it," he added with a bright smile, "so here I am."

Trowa stared at him for a long moment, and finally said, "Fine. What's for lunch?"

"Um..." Quatre reopened the freezer and pulled out the first box to hand. "Looks like... shrimp scampi."

"Fine," said Trowa again, his entire demeanor now subtly, indefinably defeated. Then he added, "But you'll have to join me. You cannot stand there and watch me eat again."

"OK," Quatre said happily, and opened the cold box in his hand.

The wisdom of this particular purchase was confirmed in the ease of preparation, though the flavor had yet to be ascertained. Once Quatre had figured out the buttons on the excessively dated microwave, he leaned against the counter and again looked at Trowa, who hadn't left his place at the edge of the kitchen. "So how's your progress?" he asked. "Any new ideas for Duo?"

Trowa turned abruptly away and moved toward the table. "No," he said shortly.

After a few moments of contemplation during which the microwave was the only sound, Quatre said, "So tell me about curses. What _is_ a curse, exactly?"

"A curse," Trowa answered slowly, flatly, "is a malicious spell that causes a set of circumstances to take effect and can only be reversed when another set of conditions is met. Cursing is considered a branch of command magic."

"You sound like a textbook," said Quatre with a smile.

Trowa made a faint, sardonic sound. "I've had quite some time to think about the nature of magic, especially curses, and organize my thoughts on the subject." He paused, then went on more quietly, "I've toyed with the idea of writing a book... but I haven't felt motivated to do so."

"We know what you'll be working on once you've cured Duo, then!" said Quatre cheerfully.

Trowa was silent.

"So there's an entire _branch_ of magic dedicated to curses?" Quatre was determined to keep this conversation going.

"There are five branches of magic. Cursing is a subcategory of one of them."

"'Subcategory,'" Quatre murmured as he began pulling out the dishes they would need. "That makes it sound so organized." And he knew so little about magic that any question he could think to ask on the subject was essentially a shot in the dark. That didn't matter much, though. "So are there... specialists in these subcategories? Experts at cursing who'll curse someone for you if you pay them?"

"Yes. They're not very nice people."

Quatre laughed. "Really?"

"Not just because they're willing to curse others for money," Trowa went on seriously. "A curse affects both the victim and the caster. A skilled curse-caster can bend this effect so that their share in the curse is something they don't mind, something that doesn't inhibit them... but even if they manage that, repeatedly having a share in any curse leaves a mark eventually."

Under cover of bringing dishes to the table, Quatre stared surreptitiously at Trowa. The unhealthily pale skin, the strange eyes, the overall sickly glow... were these parts of Duo's curse, as Quatre had vaguely assumed prior to this, or did Trowa's knowledge of the nature of curses come from more extensive experience than just Duo? It would make sense, he thought, for Trowa to have experimented with curses over the years in order to be better prepared for meeting with Duo again... but what a miserable thought. Quatre wasn't entirely certain he would blame him, but also wasn't entirely ready to know for certain.

So instead he asked, "So what is it about Duo's curse that's giving you trouble?"

Trowa sighed faintly. "Someone who deliberately casts a curse has a limited control over and understanding of what is required for the curse to be broken. But this wasn't meant to _be_ a curse; it was the artifact that twisted my spell into one. I have no idea what needs to happen for Duo to be human again."

"And your divinations haven't answered the question," Quatre finished for him, "and your research hasn't given you any answers either." He'd finished spooning shrimp and sauce onto two plates, and was now bringing these back to the table.

Trowa nodded in response to Quatre's words, and turned his eyes to the food in front of him. "Thank you," he murmured.

Quatre made a noise of acknowledgment, and sat down nearby -- not _too_ near, but not at the opposite end of the table, either. And it soon became evident that, as far as microwaveable frozen food went, he'd made a good choice on this. He noticed after not long, however, that Trowa was staring down at his plate without moving. Bracing himself for another debate, Quatre asked, "What's wrong?"

Trowa looked up, then over at the kitchen. "Did you buy all of this?"

"Yes," replied Quatre, raising his brows slightly and wondering what Trowa thought the alternative was.

"How much did you spend? I'll pay you back for it."

Quatre shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Trowa set down the fork he'd picked up but hadn't yet used. "I am perfectly capable of doing my own shopping."

Matching Trowa's flat, steely tone, but laying a sheen of cheerfulness over the top, Quatre replied, "Of course you are. But since you _don't_..."

Trowa stared at him hard for a moment, and Quatre got the feeling he had other arguments he would have produced if he felt like continuing to argue at all. Instead he simply said, "Half, then. I'll pay you half."

After a moment's hesitation, Quatre said, "OK. It was about sixty dollars."

Trowa nodded, then finally began eating.

After several silent moments Quatre asked thoughtfully, "Where do you get money, anyway? You don't seem to have a job..."

"No." At least Trowa appeared to be enjoying his lunch, whatever he might say. "Eighty-seven years of investment and interest." He went on in a 'before you ask' sort of tone, "According to official records, I am Trowa Barton the third and was born in 1970."

"You're your own grandpa, huh?" Quatre grinned. But as the reference seemed to go right over Trowa's head, he added, "Well, you certainly look good for someone who was forty at last count."

To his surprise, Trowa actually smiled. It was faint and sardonic, yes, but it made Quatre's heart leap. "And a hundred and eleven at a more accurate count," he said, and bit into one of his shrimps.

Quatre left Trowa's house later feeling that this endeavor had gone very well. Admittedly it was a little difficult to tell, but Trowa had _seemed_ to be in a better mood after eating than before. And Quatre was obviously going to have to come back every day this week and make sure Trowa ate again in order to get him into the habit, but it wasn't exactly a task he minded. Indeed, the memory of that little smile, brief and ambivalent though it had been, would undoubtedly have bolstered him through any number of much less palatable undertakings.


	30. Part 29

  


"I really don't know how you stand this," Heero remarked conversationally. "_Some_ TV is fine, but this is insane." They'd essentially spent the whole of Monday in front of the television, and Heero didn't think he could handle a repetition on Tuesday; he wondered how Duo could.

"Oh, I have a special power," replied Duo mysteriously, "which allows me to watch TV for days on end without doing anything else."

Heero looked over at him, curious.

Duo explained. "It's called 'having no other choice.'"

Heero winced. There were just so many ways being a doll must be miserable; it didn't quite seem fair that even Duo's primary source of entertainment formed one of them. _Remind me never to piss Trowa off_, was Heero's immediate reaction to this thought, but he forebore from saying it aloud. Duo had been complaining lately that Trowa hadn't come to see him for so long, and Heero didn't feel like bringing the subject up if it wasn't already on Duo's mind.

Instead, he stood abruptly and said, "No. We're going to find something else to do."

"'Something else to do?'" Duo echoed in an eyebrow-waggling sort of tone.

Firmly, Heero took the remote control from where it lay next to Duo on the end table, and turned the TV off. "Yes," he said. "Anything but more TV."

"'_Anything?_'" said Duo in that same suggestive tone.

Heero gave a monosyllabic laugh and rolled his eyes. He was already pondering what kinds of pastimes besides television-watching were available to someone that couldn't hold, eat, or drink anything, couldn't stand under his own power, whose knees and elbows didn't bend, and who would be considered more than a little bit anomalous to the world in general. (He couldn't deny that a little voice in the back of his head added, 'and whose entire groin is a solid piece with no movable parts,' but he did brush the thought away as entirely unhelpful.) He hadn't come up with anything yet when his reflections were interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to cell phones," Duo remarked as Heero dug into his pocket.

It was one of his parents calling. Heero took a deep breath, bracing himself mentally, before picking up.

His mother always greeted him, "Heero?" in a questioning tone, as if someone else might be answering his phone.

"Yes," he replied. "Hello. How are you?"

"We are very well," said his mother with her usual businesslike, almost brusque cheerfulness and faint trace of disapprobation. "Relena and Colin are coming over for dinner on Sunday, if you'd like to come too."

Heero counted the days since he'd had dinner with his family, and saw very plainly that he could not turn down this particular invitation. If only they'd planned this for Monday, so he could plead Final Four... Stifling a sigh, he said, "Yeah, that would be great. Six thirty?" Because no dinner at the Yuy household had ever happened at any other time.

His mother confirmed this, then proved that, as usual, she didn't have much else to say besides what she'd specifically called for. She wasn't very good at chatting on the phone, a trait Heero had inherited from her -- but at least _he_ didn't _try_. She asked what he'd been up to lately without really wanting to hear the answer, which was good, since he didn't really want to give the answer.

He could just imagine telling his mother, _"Well, I found a talking Ken doll in the gutter and have since developed a crush on him, but he's already got a 100-year-old boyfriend."_ She might, at least, be glad to hear that Quatre was chasing someone else; she was just sure that, any day now, Heero was going to announce he'd started sleeping with his best friend.

They exchanged a few more somewhat stiff comments, and finally hung up, with the reiterated promise of a meeting on Sunday that Heero wasn't particularly looking forward to. A couple of months ago he wouldn't have minded, but at the moment there were few places more awkward and uncomfortable to be on a Sunday evening than at his parents' house with his sister and her fiance.

"I didn't know you were bilingual!" said Duo, sounding impressed, as Heero put his phone away.

"Oh. Yeah." Heero shrugged slightly. His family tended to speak Japanese among themselves, which included phone conversations; Heero didn't really think much about it.

"Well," Duo went on matter-of-factly, "that is extremely sexy, and I am totally jealous."

Heero laughed briefly. "Didn't you say you spoke some kind of Spanish, though?"

"I said I spoke maybe ten words of _Wade_ Spanish, which doesn't even start to count."

Looking down thoughtfully at the doll, Heero said, "You keep mentioning this 'Wade.'"

"That was what they called the neighborhood Trowa and I lived in growing up." Duo's plastic head was swiveled upward to return Heero's gaze, and his eyes blinked with unnerving regularity, like an animation in an old video game or something. "See, the city was right up against this shallow river, and there was this big old sort of shantytown on the other side... a bunch of poor people lived there, mostly non-white, the kinds of people that got kicked around most back then."

"Has that changed?" asked Heero with light dryness.

"It was worse back then," promised Duo somewhat flatly. "Anyway, it was quicker for them to wade the river than walk a couple of miles to a bridge to get into the city, so they got called 'Waders' and the part of town where most of them worked -- hell, it was practically the only part of the city a lot of them _could_ get work -- but that part next to the river got called 'the Wade.' I mean, this all started before I was born; I always knew it as the Wade."

"And what was it like?" Heero asked curiously.

In response to this question, Duo laughed. "You know, there's this thing I see happen on TV," he began in an amused, pensive tone, "and you probably know about it too, if TV hasn't been lying to me like it sometimes does."

"Yes?" Heero prompted, returning to his seat on the couch and facing Duo.

"Someone'll find out that someone else speaks another language -- say, Spanish -- and they'll say, 'Oh, oh, say something in Spanish for me!' And the other person suddenly has no idea what to say."

Now Heero laughed too. "OK, yes, I do know about that." He was certain, however, that Duo, if he found himself in that situation and did happen to speak Spanish, would be one of those smartasses that just translated the words 'something in Spanish' into Spanish.

"Because you know about a billion words in that language, right?" Duo said. "And how are you supposed to decide just at a moment's notice which ones will represent the language and how it sounds to someone who doesn't speak it?"

"Are you _sure_ you haven't experienced this personally?" Heero asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I think that's about what it feels like when you ask me what the Wade was like." Duo said this in some triumph, as if he'd just made an irrefutable point in an intense debate.

"Oh," said Heero, understanding, and laughed a little again.

"I mean, I could tell you a million things about life there, but there's no quick and easy way to tell you 'what the Wade was like.' What would _you_ say if I asked you what _this_ city was like?"

"All right, I see your point," Heero conceded. For, while there _were_ a lot of concise answers he could have given to the proposed question, none of them would _really_ paint a reliable picture of the city in general. "How about this, then: do the movies get it right? I guess that's more about era than location," he admitted immediately, "but still..."

"Well, sometimes..." Duo went on in a 'scratching his head' sort of tone. "As right as anyone can get it when they're trying to cram all the social changes and attitudes and stuff of an entire decade into an hour and a half. They always try to capture 'the spirit of the times' in movies, but that's something you can only do after the fact, I guess. I mean, I don't think _I_ ever did anything that embodied the progressive and inventive spirit of the 1910's, and I definitely never looked around and _thought_ about it. But sometimes the movies do get sets that look pretty good."

Again Heero nodded his understanding, and couldn't help thinking about how movies a hundred years from now would portray _this_ decade; what 'spirit' might they attempt to capture? "OK," he said. "Then tell me one of the million things you could tell me about life in the Wade."

And as Duo obeyed, leading them into a fascinating, lively, and long-lived conversation, Heero wondered why he'd ever been under the impression that they lacked interesting things to do.


	31. Part 30

Evidently Trowa was getting used to this routine Quatre was imposing on him, for, when Quatre came over for lunch on Wednesday, he found Trowa closing the book he'd been reading as if he'd been specifically waiting for a reason to do so. Actually, that wasn't at all uncommon; Trowa seemed to be more than pleased at any excuse to set aside his research. Given how many hours a day Trowa was spending buried in books or on the internet, and to no avail, Quatre found this completely understandable.

They had some kind of breakfast-like affair involving sausage and potatoes -- not the best of the frozen meals with which Quatre had stocked Trowa's freezer -- and their conversation somehow found its way to hiking and the local opportunities therefor. Local to Quatre, that is, but since he was the one that did most of the talking this was not inappropriate. Trowa always seemed to listen somewhat grudgingly to what Quatre had to say, as if he'd rather be doing or thinking something else but couldn't help being interested. This simultaneously amused and bothered Quatre, but, as he wasn't really sure what to do about it, he simply continued as he had done.

After lunch, Trowa returned to his study and, as far as Quatre could tell, the same book he'd been perusing before, but instead of reading it he only sat still in his horrible armchair and stared at the nearby table. He had that pensive little half frown on his face again, and Quatre decided to make him some tea before he left him to his work.

Almost the only food-like item present in Trowa's kitchen before Quatre had forced half a grocery store on him had been a package of cinnamon orange tea. Having observed this, Quatre had bought him some more, but had also picked up a couple other flavors he thought Trowa might like. Of course someone that generally didn't eat or drink anything, and that quite possibly had an entire century's worth of tea experimentation under his belt, could probably be trusted to know of his one culinary indulgence what flavors he did and didn't like without help from anyone else... but Quatre speculated -- it was just a feeling, really, but an instinct he trusted -- that it was the caffeine Trowa really sought, and the taste was irrelevant.

Wild mint seemed a good choice for today, so Quatre got a cup of that ready and returned with it to the study. There he found Trowa continuing to stare at nothing, the book evidently untouched in his lap, a slight frown still on his otherwise unreadable face. The magician did not even seem to notice when Quatre set the teacup in its neat little saucer down at the other end of the table.

_Was_ Trowa staring at nothing, though? As Quatre's eyes left the object he'd brought into the room and roved over the others on the cluttered table, he began to rethink this assessment. Trowa's gaze seemed to be directed at an old, tarnished silver candlestick devoid of a candle that stood among the books and papers and other items. It occurred to Quatre that it had always been there, but he had never really taken notice of it before; and simultaneously that, even in a house full of mismatched articles from a variety of eras, this particular piece looked out of place.

He leaned closer to examine it. It was obviously very old, much too old to be any relic of the early twentieth century, or even -- though he was far from an expert on the subject -- of the late nineteenth. And then, with a faint, quick intake of surprised breath, he noticed the pattern of tiny moons, progressing from the merest sliver to round and full, carved delicately into the sides of the square base.

"Is that..." he began, and found his voice coming out in a murmur, almost a whisper, as if he were asking Trowa to divulge some serious secret.

For a long moment Trowa did not move or speak, as if he hadn't heard Quatre's beginning of a question and had, in fact, forgotten he was there. But finally with a deep breath he tore his eyes from the candlestick and turned them on Quatre. He wasn't wearing his contacts today, and Quatre had already noticed that the moon must be starting to wane at the moment. Now the moons in Trowa's face regarded him emotionlessly for a moment before returning to their previous object of scrutiny.

"Yes," Trowa said.

Quatre also turned back to peer intently at the artifact. "It's a... candlestick..." he said at last.

"Yes," Trowa said again.

"I'd expected it to be... something..." Quatre shrugged and laughed faintly. "Something _more_, I guess. Something that seemed more magical."

"Any object can become an artifact," Trowa reminded him, "if enough magic is performed around it."

Quatre nodded, then murmured, "So it was Trowa in the study with the candlestick."

Here was another reference that seemed to go right over Trowa's head. "It was created by a group of moon-worshiping magicians around 1760 in France," he explained seriously. "It's been difficult to find records of its history, but, as far as I can gather, it was created by accident -- most artifacts are -- when the group used to cast spells at an altar where this and another, matching candlestick stood."

"So there are two of them."

"I don't believe so. Apparently both became magical artifacts, but when the group noticed how much magic the candlesticks were absorbing, they began deliberately channeling their own power into one of them; so it became extremely powerful, while the other remained a standard artifact. Well, perhaps a little more powerful than a standard artifact, but nothing in comparison to this one." Trowa gestured at the candlestick on the table, from which Quatre's eyes had wandered to his companion's much more interesting face.

"Why did they put their power into it?" Quatre wondered, looking back at the candlestick as seemed to be indicated by Trowa's movement. "I can see where such a powerful artifact would be useful, but did they know that's what would happen?"

Trowa surprised Quatre by snorting in derision. "I doubt it. I can't be sure, but the feeling I get is that they did it just to see what would happen. Just for fun."

"Really?" wondered Quatre, amused. "Not to... appease the moon spirit... or something?"

"The changing nature of this group is interesting to watch in retrospect. I would let you see the records, but you wouldn't be able to read them."

"I'm fairly good with French, actually," Quatre informed him.

For the second time that week, Trowa smiled, just a little, and again Quatre's heart-rate seemed instantly to increase at the sight. "_I'm_ not," he said simply. "I can't even pronounce the name this group called themselves. But one of the conveniences of magical skill is the ability to understand the magical language, which is universal to everyone who also has magical skill." Now he gestured to the book in his lap, across whose pages were marked the indistinct and unfamiliar characters Quatre had noticed a few times before in books here. "Almost all of the records of note are written in the magical language."

"Ohh," Quatre said, a little disappointed. "Well, what do they say that's so interesting?" He was pleased at getting Trowa to talk to so much, but also had to admit that the subject was not without interest in its own right.

"The group was not a serious undertaking at the beginning," answered Trowa sardonically. "They were all or almost all magicians, yes, but they were not people who used magic _for_ anything. They were aristocrats: rich, idle people who thought it would add some spice to their pointless lives to start a secret society and pretend to worship the moon in made-up ceremonies. I gather that it was mostly an excuse to show off useless magic and have drunken orgies."

This startled a laugh out of Quatre, and inside he couldn't help reflecting that, while he'd certainly never expected it, hearing the word 'orgies' from Trowa's pale lips was every bit as pleasant as he would have thought it might be if he'd ever thought about it at all.

"But there were a few who took it seriously," Trowa went on, unaware of the fascinating train of thought onto which he'd put Quatre for a few moments. "The second generation of members, you might call them -- people who actually felt a connection to the moon which they wanted to enhance. They were the ones who wrote all the records, and they were the ones who transformed the group into a real cult after it had been nothing more than an exclusive club for several years. They continued pouring their energies into the artifact, and using it in rituals related to the moon and its cycles, which eventually gave it an affinity with the moon."

"What happened to the cult?" Quatre asked.

Trowa shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't been able to find any records later than 1785. As I understand," he added a little wryly, "that was a bad time to be an aristocrat in France. I'm lucky to have found any records at all."

"How long have you been researching this?"

After a moment's thought Trowa answered, "Sixty-two... no, sixty-three years. I thought if I could find something that would tell me more about the artifact, I might learn something that would help break the curse." He sighed faintly, and said nothing more, though the lament was clear: he _had_ learned more, and it had been fascinating research, but so far it hadn't helped. He reached out a pale, slender hand to the candlestick and ran one long finger up and down its tarnished side.

Quatre watched without blinking. Trowa had a sort of stark, lean sexiness about him that was only augmented by his strangeness and sadness, and which Quatre could really do without noticing at moments like this. He was afraid he'd caught his breath just a little, too, as he watched Trowa's cold, almost caressing movement toward the artifact, for Trowa looked over at him again abruptly.

Blushing as if Trowa were able to read his thoughts -- Quatre _assumed_ Trowa couldn't read his thoughts, anyway -- he said quickly, "Well, I made you some tea," realizing even as he said it that it probably wouldn't be hot anymore... not that Trowa ever seemed to care... "Maybe today will be the lucky day when you find your answers."

Trowa returned to staring at the candlestick beneath his fingertips as he murmured, "How many times I've thought that..." The hopelessness in his tone was almost overwhelming.

Quatre wanted very much to hug him, but still didn't quite dare. Instead he smiled as brightly as he could and said bolsteringly, "Well, it has to happen sometime -- why not today?"

With a faint sound of doubt that was almost disdainful, Trowa turned his eyes downward to the book in his lap once again, and Quatre reluctantly deemed it time to leave. Without a word of goodbye, which was becoming customary at the ends of these visits, he moved toward the door. A look back before leaving the room showed him that Trowa's gaze had already strayed from the book and was once more riveted on the artifact on the table, staring blankly into the past.


	32. Part 31

"If only my thumbs moved," Duo complained, "we could play cards or something. I wouldn't even need the rest of my fingers to separate even, if I just had _one_ opposable digit."

Heero laughed sympathetically. They'd been discussing things to do besides watching television, and, while discussion itself sufficed for the moment, this particular topic had already been so thoroughly canvassed as never to last long anymore.

"Why did you take a week off, again?" asked Duo next, partly because it seemed natural in the current conversation and partly because he liked hearing Heero's answer.

"Because all this magic stuff is so interesting it was distracting us at work," Heero replied as expected. "We hoped things might be worked out by the end of the week, or at least we'd be used to it, and we could go back to work without all the distraction."

"Mmmm," said Duo in a tone of revelry, "I'm a _distraction_."

Heero gave another of his cute monosyllabic laughs. "Yes, you are," he agreed. "But you're not distracting _enough_ and Duo, I swear to god if you turn that TV on again while I'm in the room, I will--"

"Take me to Goodwill?" Duo broke in, stealing all the thunder from Heero's threat.

"Yes," Heero agreed.

"Can it be a date?" Duo wondered.

Heero rolled his eyes.

"Well, what do normal guys do when they're bored?" Duo asked.

"All sorts of things," Heero answered in some exasperation, "most of which you can't do."

"'All sorts of things,' huh?" Duo echoed, but by now he'd approached this type of statement from this particular angle so many times that the suggestive tone was starting to sound a bit stale. "Well, how about..." But he trailed off. The truth was that he really _didn't_ know much about what normal guys did when they were bored. He knew what _children_ did when they were bored, but apart from the fact that he couldn't do most of that either, he didn't think Heero would be terribly interested in any pretending games of that sort.

They'd spent the first half of Heero's week off talking, trawling YouTube for music videos and generally interesting stuff, talking, and, yes, watching a lot of TV; apparently Heero had reached his breaking point when it came to the latter, and was absolutely determined to find something else to do. Duo was honestly touched that Heero was so bent on doing things _with him_, and didn't mind at all that Heero's insistence was making him miss all his favorite shows.

"You know what we _could_ do..." Heero said eventually into the pensive silence.

Based on Heero's already somewhat hesitant tone, Duo decided not to respond to this with a suggestive remark that would have been a repeat of something he'd said earlier anyway, and just prompted, "Yeah?"

"If you wanted," Heero went on, still slowly and a little warily, as if it was something strange or unpleasant he was about to suggest, "I could read a book aloud to you."

Duo's first thought was that it was absolutely adorable that Heero was so shy about such a thing. His second thought was that he had no idea why it should be so adorable, nor why Heero should be so shy about it in the first place. His third thought was that he would very much _like_ to know, and would definitely have to keep his eyes open. And his fourth thought was that he'd better answer before Heero decided from his silence that it had been a bad idea and retracted the suggestion.

"That _is_ a thought," he said, in appropriate thoughtfulness. "Do you have any good books, though?"

With a skeptical look as if to ask, _"Would I have suggested it if I didn't?"_ Heero rose from where he'd been sitting, as he had been quite a lot these last few days, on the couch. His inexplicable and wholly welcome determination to do things with Duo during his week off had led him to start carrying Duo around with him much of the time, so it was no surprise when he picked Duo up now before he headed down the hall.

But when they entered the room where the computer and bookshelf and spare bed lived, Heero stopped for a moment in the doorway, as if pausing in thought, then reached around behind him with the hand holding Duo so that the doll was facing the opposite direction Heero was and held against the small of his back.

"Is this like making me sit in the corner?" Duo wondered as Heero moved into the room. Heero was clearly perusing the bookshelf, but Duo was now looking at the computer desk and the opposite wall.

"It's more like not letting you see what kind of awful taste in books I had when I was younger," Heero replied evenly.

"What?!" Duo yelped. "Now you _have_ to let me see!"

"No, I don't."

"Did you read the Babysitters Club, or what?" Duo was flailing his stiff limbs in impotent rebellion. "Come on, put me back around there!"

"No," Heero said, and there was some laughter in his voice.

"You know, I could have seen them any time yesterday when we were looking at stuff on the computer," Duo pointed out. "How do you know I don't already know everything you've got up there?"

"Because you were facing the computer, and _I notice_ when you turn your head all the way around," Heero answered logically and with a slight shudder.

Duo began spinning his head around and around and around.

"Stop that," Heero commanded; he could undoubtedly tell what Duo was doing by the feel of the doll's braid rhythmically running counterclockwise over his hand.

"Let me see your books!" Duo replied.

"No!"

"I am going to make it my life's work to find out what you have on your bookshelf, Heero Yuy," Duo declared, finally ceasing his spinning. "You just wait."

Heero chuckled triumphantly. "All right," he said. Then he added, "How about the Oz series? Have you ever read those?"

"Aren't those, like, kids' books?"

"Um, yes," Heero admitted, sounding a little embarrassed. "That's mostly what I have."

"What _else_ do you have?"

"Well, there's also the-- wait, are you asking because you don't like the idea of the Oz series, or are you just being sneaky?"

"_You just wait_," Duo repeated, then laughed evilly. When he was finished with that he said, "But I have no objection to the Oz series. I've seen the movie, of course, and some other version that was a horrible, horrible cartoon with these hilarious songs in it..."

"OK," said Heero, and a moment later they were returning to the living room. Heero replaced Duo on the end table, and himself on the couch, and now Duo could see The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in his hand. Heero too looked at it, at the very ugly illustration on its old paper cover, and smiled slightly. "I used to love these books, but I haven't read them for years. I'm still pretty sure they're not nearly as bad as any of the other series I used to read, though."

"Other series such as?" Duo prompted.

Heero laughed, and made a great show of settling more comfortably into the couch cushions and opening the book. "'Chapter one,'" he read: "'The Cyclone.'"

  
[Art by Link Worshiper](http://link_worshiper.livejournal.com/)


	33. Part 32

  


Trowa was a little surprised, on Friday evening, to see Quatre in his house again despite the fact that he'd been there earlier for lunch. He supposed this shouldn't have been much of a shock -- Quatre was proving excessively tenacious -- but he somehow thought he'd met his quota for the day. Or was Quatre going to start insisting Trowa eat _dinner_, too? Surely not. 

He'd essentially given up trying to understand Quatre, who, while clearly a follower like the rest of them, didn't quite behave like the rest of them. He _still_ hadn't ever asked for anything, and yet he fussed; he interrupted and intruded, and yet wasn't necessarily unpleasant to have around. It didn't make sense, and Trowa had other things to think about. 

And now Quatre was walking the room slowly, coming to stand beside the table in front of Trowa, with arms crossed and a frown on his face. "I had a feeling..." was the first thing he said. 

From his chair, Trowa looked up at the other man in vague curiosity. 

"I've been watching you all week," Quatre said, in a tone that suggested the delivery of bad news, "and..." His frown deepened. "You aren't really working on anything, are you?" 

Startled, Trowa blinked, and at first had nothing to say. It was a blow, and probably more than it should have been coming from a follower. On top of everything else, on top of the guilt and the sorrow and the hopelessness, now Quatre had noticed... 

"I've seen you really working a couple of times," Quatre went on, and by now he sounded almost apologetic, "but most of the time -- especially these last few days -- you just sit there staring into space." 

Trowa lifted his gaze the final few inches necessary to meet Quatre's, and found there a strange mixture of accusation and pity. This did nothing to help with the weight on Trowa's heart, which had only been increased by Quatre's words. Feeling his lips tighten, Trowa stood abruptly, letting the book that had been on his lap -- which he never _had_ really looked at today -- slide unheeded to the floor, pushed past Quatre, and left the room. 

Through the dining room windows he could see the failing light of evening. He noticed as well in the glass the reflection of Quatre immediately behind him. "It's none of your business," Trowa said preemptively. 

"It _is_ my business," Quatre replied at once, firmly. "I consider Duo a friend -- and you too, no matter how you feel about it. Neither one of you is going to have a decent life until this curse is broken, so I want to know why the only person who has any chance of breaking it seems to have given up." 

Trowa frowned. A friend? Quatre considered him a _friend_? Was _that_ why he expressed concern without making demands? Why he kept coming over here? Actually, it would explain all of Quatre's behavior fairly well; Trowa remembered that some people _did_ do things like that sometimes. 

It was certainly more than _he_ deserved. 

"Being my friend can be unhealthy," he said stonily, still staring out the window, tackling this secondary issue while he evaded the main one. "It's best avoided." 

"You haven't had any real friends since back then, have you?" Quatre guessed in a quiet, pitying tone. "Just those people who wanted magic from you." 

"You've seen what I did to my last friend," Trowa explained a bit harshly. 

"Trowa..." Quatre had taken another step forward and put his hand on Trowa's shoulder, causing the magician to go stiff. "That was an _accident_. It was a bad combination of circumstances. Duo's forgiven you for it." 

Although at least part of him didn't want to, Trowa shrugged Quatre's hand off. "That's because that's what Duo does." It came out almost in a hiss. "He gets angry, and then he gets over it. But there are some things that _shouldn't_ be forgiven that easily." 

"That's why you've stopped working, isn't it?" Quatre wondered next, in the same soft, sympathetic tone as before. "You can't forgive yourself for what you did to him, and it's driving you crazy. So instead of trying to solve the problem so you can move past it, you're just sitting around being miserable doing nobody any good." 

It was many years -- decades, perhaps -- since Trowa could remember being truly angry, but now the agitation he felt at this conversation was close enough that he thought it counted. He couldn't deny the truth of what Quatre had said, but he felt that the other man didn't -- _couldn't possibly_ \-- understand him. He whirled on him, fixing his cursed eyes on Quatre's face. "Do you have _any idea_," he demanded, "how it feels to know that you've destroyed the life of someone you love?" 

"No," said Quatre quietly, steadily. "But I _have_ done things I regretted, and--" 

"You haven't done _anything_ like this," Trowa interrupted harshly. "Something like this hangs over you forever, so you can never think right or feel like yourself again, so that every single moment of every day you're..." 

He trailed off, and not just because it was so strange to be putting into words how he felt, how he had silently felt for so many years, to someone else. He realized even as he said it that it was no longer entirely true. It _wasn't_ 'every single moment of every day' anymore. Because lately... somehow... with Quatre around... there _had_ been moments... 

But that didn't matter. The fact that he hadn't been _entirely_ miserable at certain points during the last couple of weeks didn't change anything. 

Realizing that Trowa wasn't going to continue, Quatre said, "I'm sorry. I can't claim I know exactly how you feel, but I see what you're saying. And normally I'd say that you need to get yourself straightened out before you can try to help someone else. But in this case, I think breaking the curse _is_ what will help you. Giving up or slowing down is the worst thing you can do." 

It was sound advice. Whatever his motivation, he should be focused entirely on breaking the curse. But this thought only made Trowa feel worse. He said nothing. 

Quatre's face hardened slightly. "Even if you can't do it for your own sake, at least think of Duo," he said flatly. "I assume you haven't come to see him because it's painful for you... but it's hurting him. He acts very casual about it, but he's obviously unhappy that he hasn't seen you all week." 

Trowa turned hastily back to the window, unwilling to let Quatre see his face crumple as it was now threatening to. The thought that he was prolonging Duo's suffering by his own weakness was the worst of it, and made the rest that much harder to bear. 

Finally, after several moments of silence, "I don't know where else to look," he said in the soft tone of absolute despair. "I don't know what else to do." 

Again Quatre put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing this time as if eager to give what comfort he could. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish I could help you." 

And it occurred to Trowa that he didn't _have_ to understand Quatre to know that he wasn't like the followers -- that perhaps he wasn't like anyone Trowa had ever met. He genuinely cared about Trowa and Duo and their situation, and he honestly wished he could help... and at the same time wasn't afraid to risk Trowa's displeasure by confronting him with unpleasant truths Trowa needed to hear. That was something friends did, wasn't it? God, it had been so long. He'd been alone so long... it was no wonder he'd forgotten what it was like not to be... 

"Maybe you can," he found himself saying in a low, unaccountably level voice. "Will you stay here?" He thought there was a faint hissing breath behind him as he spoke the question, as if the latter had come as a shock to more than only himself. "Just... stay here with me while I work? I think it would help." 

Whether or not Quatre was surprised at the request, however, all he said, in a tone very much like Trowa's, was, "Of course."


	34. Part 33

  


Quatre had never in his life found himself so distracted from a basketball game, especially not at the beginning of April. He'd done a little better paying attention to today's earlier game, but after that he'd gone to force lunch on Trowa, and now his thoughts had so overtaken him that he noticed only about half of what was happening onscreen. 

He'd sat in Trowa's study yesterday for hours, doing almost nothing besides watching the magician work -- honest, genuine work, if Quatre was any judge -- joining in the occasional random brief conversation, and struggling with a mixture of emotions. 

The idea that Trowa found his presence helpful in any way was elating, to the point where Quatre had been hard pressed not to sit there grinning the entire time; but he felt guilty too. He hadn't recognized the depths of Trowa's unhappiness, despite their being so understandable as to be almost predictable; and surely he shouldn't be so damn happy about Trowa wanting him there when that stemmed simply from the fact that Trowa _had no friends_. 

He wasn't sure that Trowa had actually _accomplished_ anything yesterday, but he'd definitely been _working_ \-- first researching, then setting up another complicated divination ceremony -- and that alone felt like a triumph. That alone seemed to make the whole week off worth it, even if the original wish that Duo might be human again before the time was up remained unfulfilled. Just to know that Trowa's crisis of hope had been averted, at least for now, made everything worth it. 

Quatre had been reacting only sluggishly to everything in the game he was supposedly watching, and he was sure Heero had noticed. Uncertain whether he wanted to relate to Heero or Duo what had happened yesterday, Quatre took a deep breath and tried to pay better attention to the TV. So when, not long after, a failed layup was saved by two of their players at once moving in such close synchronization that it was almost impossible to tell which had actually made the dunk, Quatre was able to respond appropriately and in good time. 

He noticed when he'd finished cheering, however, that he wasn't the only one reacting oddly today. Duo's little voice, usually the most enthusiastic of the three of them, if not exactly the loudest, was even more excited than usual at the moment for some reason, and had transitioned from expressing great appreciation for what he'd just seen to shouting incoherently. It wasn't long before both Quatre and Heero were staring at him, and a moment after that Heero had jumped to his feet, evidently losing all track of the basketball game. 

"What is it?" Quatre asked, watching Duo flail his little plastic arms and swivel his head from side to side. Then, finally, he saw it too, and, like Heero, jumped from the couch. 

Heero had picked Duo up and was staring down at him in agitated wonder. The doll was still waving his arms wildly, not as if he was struggling but simply for the sake of the movement itself -- for, inexplicably, for the first time that Quatre had ever seen, his _elbows_ were _bending_. And though Duo was no longer shouting, he was still making noise: babbling almost as incomprehensibly as before, he was exclaiming nonstop about his elbows and how long it had been since he'd had any. Heero, meanwhile, kept interjecting incomplete congratulations and broken questions as to how it could possibly have happened. 

Abruptly it occurred to Quatre how utterly absurd this looked, and he laughed out loud. This seemed to break through the ongoing incoherence in front of him, and two heads -- one with stiff, messy dark brown hair, the other with a tiny chestnut braid -- turned toward him. 

"This is _wonderful_, Duo," Quatre said, smiling broadly. "I'm going to run over there and tell Trowa." 

Duo, who was still lifting both forearms over and over as if he couldn't get enough of the motion, stretched his plastic smile as wide as it would go as he looked at Quatre. "Thanks, man!" he said ecstatically. "I don't want you to have to miss more of the game, though." 

They all glanced almost reflexively back at the TV, which had gone to commercial while they weren't paying attention, and Quatre shook his head. "Trowa will want to know this good news right away." He started toward Trowa's door. "Besides, he'll know what it means better than we do, and it might help him!" 

Despite the purely idiomatic quality of the phrase 'run over there,' Quatre _was_ almost running as he came into Trowa's entryway. All he could think of was that this information would surely give Trowa hope, allow him to work more steadfastly, perhaps even make him happy, if just for a moment. He probably appeared a little wild to the magician as he burst into the study. 

In fact, he realized immediately, his desire to deliver a cheering report had been somewhat betrayed by his demeanor; for Trowa, observing his agitation, rose precipitously and came toward him, saying, "What's wrong?" 

Quatre reached out as they met halfway across the room, seizing Trowa's arm and giving it a little shake. "It's _good_ news," he said hastily. He let go of Trowa immediately, lest he be tempted further to test the shape of that wiry arm beneath its long buttoned sleeve and distract himself from the conversation. "Duo," he went on excitedly, "just bent his elbows. He says he's never been able to do that before as a doll, but now he can." He realized even as he voiced this that it sounded every bit as stupid as it had looked back in Heero's apartment; but there really was nothing to be done. 

He wouldn't have thought Trowa could possibly become any paler, and he would have been wrong; as Trowa's eyes widened slightly, his face seemed to blanch as if with shock. For a moment he was obviously unsure of what to do, looking as if he might push past Quatre at a run and simultaneously as if he wanted (or perhaps just needed) to return to his chair. Then his face took on a faint expression of concentration, his bright moon eyes seeming to glaze over a bit as if he were no longer seeing anything in front of him, and he said something. 

Quatre knew by now that these incomprehensible sounds were words in the magical language, and he wondered what Trowa was doing. He speculated that it was a divination to find out why this had happened, and considered this guess confirmed when Trowa focused again on the world around him and spoke, in almost a whisper, what sounded like an answer to a specific question on the subject: 

"Because he's been with Heero all week."


	35. Part 34

  


Divination was in some ways the simplest branch of magic, since at its most basic level it involved just asking a question. Not infrequently, however, it also proved the most frustrating of the three branches to which Trowa had access, because the universe was so picky about what information it would give out. The more general a question you asked -- _"How can I break Duo's curse?"_ for example -- the more general an answer you were likely to receive -- such as a meaningless vision of the moon. But to ask a more specific question, you had to have _some_ information already, which was why Trowa had, up until this moment, been consistently thwarted. 

Knowing both that Duo had been with Heero all week and that Duo was now able to bend his elbows, an answer that simply pointed out the correlation between the two facts was wonderfully easy to obtain. And that answer was the first step on the path to the greater answer -- a path that was an interconnected series of questions, answer leading to question leading to answer. Trowa could see it now before him, bright and clear, and he could feel the stinging of tears in his eyes. 

Quatre had brought him what real diviners -- which Trowa had never pretended to be -- called the 'gateway fact' or sometimes just the 'key:' the elusive piece of information that, once found, put you onto that path of productive questions. It took only five or six of the latter, after the initial "Why can Duo bend his elbows now?" to reach the complete, final conclusion and to understand why things were the way they were. 

It seemed impossibly, almost agonizingly simple now that he saw it; it was the same twisted sort of logic that lay behind all curses, purposeful _or_ unintended, and now that he recognized it he found it almost incredible that he hadn't seen it all along... He had accused Duo of being fake and superficial, of fabricating an attachment, and then he had cursed him; so what Duo required to escape the curse was a _real_ attachment, a connection to someone that went beyond the superficial. 

Of course there was more to it than that, or else the curse would have been broken decades ago, but that was the baseline. And it couldn't be Trowa, since he was restrained by the curse as well. Obviously it could be Heero, though... and Trowa had a feeling he knew exactly what kind of attachment it was -- though naturally he wasn't going to walk in there and say that. The last time he'd given his opinion on what Duo felt for someone else, it had ended in plastic and almost a century of grief. But he _could_ explain the physicalities that were required, and the curse _could_ be broken. 

The curse could be broken. After eighty-seven years, the curse could be broken. 

He had completely lost track of what he was doing, so deep in his own thoughts and the attendant emotions that he'd forgotten Quatre was here -- and, as a matter of fact, where 'here' even was. Now he looked around, gradually noticing and remembering. He was seated in the armchair in his study, very still, staring at nothing, and Quatre was beside him with a box of Kleenex. This was undoubtedly because tears were still pouring down Trowa's face, running unchecked over his cheeks and neck to soak his collar or sneak beneath it. 

Turning his head, he met Quatre's eyes, and saw hope and curiosity and a certain amount of worry in the attractive face. And he realized belatedly that Quatre, devoid of magical skill, wouldn't have any idea of the breakthrough he'd just had. He reached out a faintly-trembling hand, took a tissue from the box Quatre held, and said, "I know how to break the curse." His voice shook a little, but the words came out clear enough. 

Quatre drew in and then let out a long breath, his mouth curving into a pleased smile that seemed at once to commend Trowa and invite him to share further insight. "I knew you could do it," he said quietly, his tone an echo of what that welcoming smile conveyed. 

Trowa paused in the act of drying his face and said, "I couldn't have without the news you brought me. Thank you." 

Quatre's smile became even warmer, but all he said, in a somewhat amused tone, was, "I was just the messenger." 

"Messenger," Trowa murmured, echoing him almost blankly. Inside he was momentarily overwhelmed by the thought of carrying this infinitely good message to Duo. When he found that once again he'd moved without really noticing it -- this time standing from the chair into which he'd sunk at some point in his shock -- he also found himself smiling at Quatre. And it wasn't the first time he'd smiled at Quatre lately, was it? He looked around, then headed for his bathroom. When he returned, he found Quatre leaning on the doorframe between the study and the bedroom looking curious. 

Trowa raised his newly-lensed eyes to meet Quatre's again and said, "No reason to distract them from the point." Quatre grinned his understanding and turned to lead the way out of the house. 

Stepping into Heero's apartment for the first time in over a week, Trowa found his old friend and Heero involved in a rather strange-sounding discussion that might have been about basketball and might have been about elbows, and either way seemed to be pushing the limits on how animated each was capable of becoming. Trowa discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that his smile only grew at the sight of them. Yes, he could see it all now. 

Heero looked over, his gaze fixing on Quatre. "Duke won," he said, then added as if in afterthought, "Hello, Trowa." 

At this, Duo's head swiveled entirely around -- causing, Trowa thought, every single human in the room to wince. "Trowa!" he cried. "I have elbows!!" 

"I heard." Trowa had sobered again. Yes, he knew now what needed to be done, but it definitely fell into the category of things easier said. Heero was off to a good start, but could he keep it up for as long as was necessary? If not, was it likely Duo would ever find another person that could? He'd waited eighty-seven years for someone that could get him even this far... 

Trowa moved to stand before them, between the silent television and the sofa and end table, looking down at both doll and human. They stared back; his new position (thankfully) required a far less extreme angle of Duo's head, and Heero gave Trowa the usual polite blankness. Trowa neither knew nor cared why Heero disliked him; Heero liked Duo, and that was all that mattered -- and probably, Trowa thought, the reason there was just a touch of intrigued anticipation to his expression as well at the moment: Heero was hoping Trowa had come in here with good news. They'd just have to see how good he considered it. 

"I know how to break the curse," Trowa said at last, slowly and clearly. 

Duo went absolutely still. Of course this wasn't difficult for him, given his construction, but seeing someone go so impossibly motionless, no matter what he was made of, was actually almost as uncanny as seeing a doll moving on his own. It was reminiscent of death, and Trowa didn't like it. He reached out and picked Duo up in a sudden, impetuous gesture. 

Heero twitched forward slightly, as if with an instinctive movement immediately restrained, and seemed to attempt to cover this up by saying a little breathlessly, "How?" 

"Yeah," said Duo, speaking at last nearly inaudibly. "How?" As he had that night when they'd been reunited, he sounded as if Trowa's words had given him a sudden, desperate hope that he was trying wildly not to indulge lest he be hurt again. 

Trowa fixed his gaze on the doll's face, so disconcertingly, painfully, simultaneously close to and far from the face of the human that had been his best friend. How he wished _he_ could be the one to break the curse. As it was, he wouldn't have any control whatsoever over whether or not this was successful. Hell, he didn't even know if Heero was going to be willing to try it. He had the information he needed, but it was crashing down on him more and more heavily just how uncertain the situation still remained. 

"Having a friend who knows about the curse and wants to help you out of it is the key," Trowa said, gesturing at Heero. He'd chosen these words very carefully -- they were technically true, but not intrusive enough to get him into trouble. "You and Heero have hardly been apart at all this week, have you?" 

A silence followed this statement, but this one was less shocked and anticipatory than it was contemplative. Finally Duo said, "That's right, isn't it? Actually, Heero, I don't think you've even gone anywhere since, like, Tuesday or something... except to get the mail, wasn't it? But you took me with you then..." 

Heero confirmed this with a brief sound. 

Trowa nodded. "And you've seen the result." He reached up with his free hand and drew a finger over Duo's arm, from the stiff little sleeve down to what would be his wrist if it were willing to bend. 

Immediately Duo lifted his forearm, turning his head to look at it with a little plastic grin, and Trowa saw that the newly-revealed elbow was more like a human joint than a doll's -- that is, there was no sign of it; the arm simply bent. "Yeah, I can totally make rude gestures at people again finally," Duo was gloating. "I won't demonstrate on you, though," he added magnanimously, looking back up at Trowa and continuing to grin. 

Despite knowing Duo could not feel it, Trowa squeezed him affectionately at this typical statement. "So what you need to do to become fully human again," he went on, "is to stay close to Heero." 

"How close?" Heero asked. 

"Within your psychic field," Trowa replied, glancing briefly at him. "For anyone untrained, that's usually about a five-foot radius, though I'll do a spell to determine more precisely how large yours is. In your own home, or any place that bears your psychic imprint, you may have a longer working distance, but I would not count on it." 

Duo said nothing, obviously digesting this, but Heero put his finger right onto the center of the issue with another laconic question: "How long?" 

Trowa turned his full attention to Heero now, examining his impassive face intently. This, he knew, was the crucial point, the moment that would determine whether Duo would have a chance at being human again or would start another perhaps century-long search for someone else to fulfill the curse's cruelly personal requirements. He took a deep breath and answered steadily, "A full lunar cycle."


	36. Part 35

A moment that seemed to stretch into forever followed as the complete implications of Trowa's words hit home. 

Five feet. 

A full lunar cycle. 

_Good lord._

Heero thought about his 'private' cubicle at work. He thought about his co-workers on the sales floor, difficult to put up with at the best of times, and remembered fleetingly how he'd been sure they would react, that first day, if they saw him carrying a doll. He thought about how quickly gossip spread through the building, heard it repeated in a dozen shrill but lowered voices that the Sales Coordinator had a Barbie sitting on his desk. He thought about grocery shopping with a doll seated in the cart, then trying to explain to the checker that, no, he hadn't pulled it off the shelf and opened it, but had brought it in from home. He thought about going down to the apartment office to drop off May rent holding a doll. He thought about dinner at his parents' house tomorrow with a doll in his hand, and felt a little faint. 

He thought about having Duo with him all the time. 

He thought about Duo human, and resolve filled him. Because, really, he didn't care what it took; he didn't care what he had to suffer; if he had to live in Hell for a month to break this stupid curse, then that was damn well what he was going to do. 

The moment stretched on -- it was probably two or three seconds, actually, but it didn't matter much; his thoughts were moving at light speed in any case -- and it occurred to him next how _he_ would react if he were in Duo's position... if a friend of his were being asked for his sake to go through what he vaguely anticipated now. He knew how he would feel, and he was fairly sure Duo's response would be much the same. But for Duo to feel guilty or at fault about this was the last thing Heero wanted; the process of breaking the curse shouldn't make it _worse_ for Duo. He'd gone through enough already. 

So as the moment ended, Heero said calmly, "That's it? Duo just has to stay within five feet of me for a month, and he'll be human again?" 

"'That's it?'" Duo, still in Trowa's hand, echoed weakly. "Heero, are you..." He trailed off, apparently unable to complete the thought. 

"No blood sacrifice?" Heero went on coolly. "No dragons to fight or Nome Kings to outwit?" 

"That's it," Trowa confirmed. He was still staring intently into Heero's face, and Heero thought he knew why: it was all on _his_ shoulders now, for some reason, and Trowa was anxious to know that he was up to the task. Why Trowa couldn't do it himself Heero didn't want to ask; he would rather not even sail _near_ those waters, since he thought the ensuing discussion would probably drive him crazy. He was simply glad (on the level beneath the one on which he was already feverishly bracing himself for the month to come) that he could be of use to Duo -- and perhaps secretly, horribly, a little glad that Trowa couldn't. 

"That's easy," he said confidently. 

"Easy?" Duo burst out. "Easy?? Heero, are you _thinking_ about this? Sneaking me down to the laundry room in a basket is one thing, but a _whole month_??" 

"Yeah, do you think you can put up with me for that long?" Heero asked, trying his damndest to speak lightly. 

"Heero, _me_ putting up with _you_ is _not_ going to be the problem." Duo still sounded shocked, but simultaneously amused and a little exasperated. "Are you thinking at all about what this will involve?" 

"He's right, Heero." It was the first thing Quatre had said since entering. He too seemed somewhat amused, and a little uneasy. "This may be really hard on you." 

Heero forced a shrug. "If that's what it takes." 

"Heero..." said Duo faintly. 

Trowa still hadn't withdrawn his pointed gaze, but at Heero's statement he gave a brief little nod, apparently satisfied. "I'll go draw up a spell to find the exact dimensions of your psychic field," he said quietly, and turned to set Duo down. 

Duo looked up at him from the table as Trowa's hand withdrew, and said just as quietly, "Thanks, Trois." 

Trowa appeared startled, and Heero could tell without even asking that nobody had called him 'Trois' in a very long time. Trying to stave off jealousy, he reminded himself that a month's close proximity trumped a cute nickname any day; but that didn't make it any easier to hear Trowa's parting, "Just hope it works, Deux," as the magician touched the top of Duo's head with two fingertips before he walked away. 

When Trowa was gone, a long silence fell. It was very much like the last time he had walked out of this room, back when he'd done his failed divination with the candles. Heero was staring down at Duo thoughtfully, and he knew Quatre was staring at _him_. Duo was staring straight forward at neither of them, but Heero was certain they were all thinking about the same thing. 

This guess was confirmed when Duo finally swiveled his head to look at where Heero still sat on the couch. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. 

"It can't possibly be as tough as being a doll for a hundred years," Heero said, still struggling for a casual tone. 

"That doesn't mean it's not going to suck," said Duo bluntly. "I mean, I can't ask... you don't have to do this for me." 

"But I'm going to anyway," Heero shrugged. 

"Well, thanks." Duo sounded a bit baffled and perhaps, despite Heero's best efforts, a little guilty, but definitely grateful. 

"I haven't done anything yet," Heero reminded him. "Start thanking me a week from now. Oh, and, once you're human," he added with a wry smile, "I think you'll owe me lunch every day for a _year_." 

Duo laughed. "OK, fine," he said, in something more like his usual tone. "I just hope you know what you're getting into." 

"I hope so too," replied Heero. He looked around, though he couldn't see down the hall to the glass balcony door from this angle. "What's the moon like right now, anyway?" 

"It was full four nights ago," Quatre said unexpectedly. "April's only got thirty days, so May third's probably the day you want, but I'm not sure. It'll be easiest to look up a lunar calendar online or something and find the exact date." 

Heero hadn't had any idea that Quatre paid so much attention to the moon, but wasn't going to turn down the advice. 

Quatre shook his head, evidently not quite sure what to think. "This will be... interesting." 

Heero snorted. 

"Well, I'm going to head home," Quatre said next, a little reluctantly. "But you guys will definitely be seeing me tomorrow." 

"Night, Quatre," said Duo abstractedly. 

"Yeah, see you," said Heero. 

Quatre nodded and made his way to the door, and Heero thought he was chuckling faintly as he let himself out. 

Then Heero turned to stare again at Duo, who seemed lost in contemplation. Several moments passed in silence before Heero finally reached out to pick the doll up and stand. "C'mon, Duo," he said. "Let's go to bed." 

And it was a sure sign of how serious were Duo's thoughts at the moment that all he said in response to this was, "OK."


	37. Part 36

  


He probably shouldn't have done it, but Quatre simply couldn't help himself; he _had_ to peek into Heero's bedroom the next morning. It wasn't that he expected to see anything terribly interesting; it was just that the _whole thing_ was so interesting he wanted to reconnect. 

Duo was sitting on Heero's cluttered nightstand -- which, Quatre reflected in some amusement, was really just the bedroom equivalent of an end table -- still and silent, apparently watching Heero sleep in what had to be the most boring way to spend eight or nine hours Quatre could think of. Despite how quietly Quatre moved, Duo looked up as he opened the door and put his head in. The doll said nothing, but gave him a tiny grin and a two-armed wave from the elbows that might have been described as a jazz-hand-wave if his fingers had been capable of splaying. 

Amused, Quatre returned the gesture -- though he, not being quite so excited about his own elbows, used a more traditional version -- also did not risk awakening Heero with a verbal greeting, and withdrew back into the hallway. 

He still hadn't entirely wrapped his brain around what was required to break the curse. On the one hand, as Heero had said, it was a surprisingly easy solution, requiring no blood or complicated magical ceremonies... but on the other, it was likely to be monumentally inconvenient for Heero -- Heero, who liked nothing better than never to draw attention to himself over anything. Quatre wasn't really surprised that his friend was willing to undertake the task, but his mood was a perfect mixture of amusement and horror as he thought about what the task entailed. He would very much have liked to discuss it with Heero in private, but it seemed he wouldn't have a chance at such a conversation for quite some time now. 

Today he had other plans, in any case. He'd specifically turned down a lunch invitation from some other friends in order to carry them out, in fact. 

Before Trowa could ask who was there, Quatre was identifying himself and calling out a hearty good morning to the little house in general. He couldn't be certain of what sort of mood he would find Trowa in after yesterday's events, but he had a sneaking suspicion there would be guilt or melancholy involved for any of a number of reasons -- and therefore some enthusiastic cheerfulness on his part might be exactly what was needed. 

What he found, in fact, was nothing short of absolutely typical: Trowa seated in his armchair appearing distant, like he hadn't slept in days, and neither very happy nor terribly upset. This didn't necessarily mean, however, that he _wasn't_ very happy or terribly upset, just that he wasn't showing it. With this in mind, Quatre asked, "How are you doing?" as he came to stand in front of him. 

"I don't know." Trowa looked as if he wasn't used to people asking him how he was -- asking and _caring_, especially -- and Quatre fully believed that the frank answer he gave was due solely to the fact that he'd been such a hermit for so long he'd gotten out of the habit of politely lying in response to that particular question as most people did. "I'm glad we've found out how to break the curse, of course, but it feels... anticlimactic. It wasn't that I was hoping for something painful or horrible, but..." He shook his head slightly. "I don't know what I was hoping." 

"You were hoping _you_ would be the one who could break the curse," said Quatre with sympathetic surety. And he was almost as sure that Trowa really _had_ hoped it would require something painful or horrible, so he could live out a penance nobody else desired of him. Suddenly Quatre was glad of what the answer had turned out to be -- but could Trowa ever see it that way? "Don't worry," he continued reassuringly. "Heero's a great guy, and he cares about Duo too." If Quatre was any judge of his best friend's behavior, that was rather an understatement. "You can count on him." 

Perhaps Trowa also recognized the understatement, for his face seemed to darken somewhat. "I'd rather not," he said bluntly. 

"There's nothing wrong with letting a friend do some of the work." In Quatre's haste to vouch for Heero's pure intentions, he may have stressed the word 'friend' a little too much. It made him uneasy, too... because if Trowa needed to be reassured about Heero hanging out with Duo reading books aloud and watching TV, Quatre should probably offer some kind of reassurance to Duo about his own behavior toward Trowa. Except that Duo had never seemed anything but pleased when he noticed Quatre going to visit Trowa. But, then, if Duo was more easygoing, possibly more trusting than his bitter, reclusive boyfriend, it would be no great surprise. 

Trowa had nothing to say. Or rather, as on a few previous occasions, it seemed he might well have quite a bit to say if only he wanted to continue the discussion at all. Instead he just glanced around as if reminding himself where he was and murmured, "What's the time?" 

"Almost one, here," replied Quatre, allowing the subject to be changed. "Let's go out to lunch." 

Now Trowa looked up at him. "'Out?'" he echoed blankly. 

"Yes." Quatre gave an explanatory gesture. "Out of your house, where you spend far too much time." 

"Why?" wondered Trowa, still in that baffled tone. 

"To celebrate," Quatre said. 

"I think we still have an entire month to hold our breaths before we can celebrate," Trowa said dully. 

With a pitying smile, Quatre restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "After eighty-seven years, you don't think that finally knowing how to break the curse is something worth celebrating?" 

"I'll celebrate when the curse is actually broken." 

"OK, fine. I'm going to hold you to that. And for now, instead of a celebration, how about just a break? And I don't mean the kind of break where you sit there staring at that candlestick for hours thinking about how everything's your fault." 

Trowa's brows drew together slightly. "I don't--" 

"Yes, you do. We've been over this. You need to get away from everything in here for a while, so let's go out to lunch. Aren't you hungry?" 

Evidently almost against his will, Trowa admitted, "Yes." Then he gestured at the paper he'd apparently been working on at the table, and said with just a touch of helplessness, "I was planning on finding the dimensions of Heero's psychic field as soon as he was awake." 

"You can do that later. He knows it's about five feet, _and_ he's at home." 

"But--" 

Quatre had feared it might come to this. A little frustrated, he put on his best wheedling tone and puppy-dog eyes, and said daringly, "Come on, Trois. I just know you'll feel better if you get out of here for a while." 

_That_ got Trowa's full attention. He stared up at Quatre from behind his unnatural green contacts, brows drawing together again slightly, and seemed at a loss as to what to say. 

It was a little horrible to be doing this to someone else's boyfriend (well, it was always horrible in any case, but it was an effective last resort), but Quatre was not going to lose this debate. He tweaked his expression to look slightly more pathetic and vulnerable, and said softly, sweetly, "Please?" 

Appearing almost hypnotized, Trowa said, "All right." 

Quatre beamed. 

Trowa drew in a deep breath as he rose slowly from his chair. "Where are we going?" 

"Well, there are some highly-rated seafood places around here; I looked it up online." 

"I don't go out into this town," said Trowa flatly. 

"What?" Quatre was ready to shout in frustration at this newest objection. He just wanted to go out to lunch; was that so hard? He'd even done the big-eyed wheedling thing! But he forced himself to ask calmly, "Why not?" 

"Because if people around here get to know what I look like, eventually they will notice I don't age." 

"How do you ever shop for anything?" Quatre wondered, bemused. 

"If I need to, I jump to another city. Never the same one twice, though." 

Quatre stared at him. So in addition to guilt and shame and despair, Trowa had been living with paranoia all this time. Dragging him back into the human world was going to be even more work than Quatre had realized. 

Eventually he asked, "Well, can you jump us to some place where we can have lunch, then?" feeling, even as he said it, a sudden bubbling excitement at the thought of Trowa touching him again for the teleportation magic. 

Trowa frowned slightly. As far as Quatre could tell, however, it wasn't an expression of discontentment this time; rather, he seemed to be considering something, as if he'd had an idea he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to implement. Finally he murmured, "Why not?" and looked up at Quatre once more. The ghost of a smile had replaced the thoughtful frown, and he lifted one arm to welcome Quatre to him. 

Although he feared his suddenly-pounding heart might betray him, Quatre stepped forward gladly. Trowa's arm closed lightly around his waist, his voice sounded, low and incomprehensible, in Quatre's ear, and then they were lifted into weightlessness and away.


	38. Part 37

Heero had some cleaning to do on Sunday, to which he had honestly been looking forward more than to the dinner with his parents in the evening. It was good practice making sure he was aware at all times of where Duo was, and at remembering to pick him up and move him whenever he needed to go into another part of the apartment. It was nice having Duo around, too, as he worked, although their ongoing conversation was often broken when Duo's little voice just couldn't rise high enough to overcome the normal noises of cleaning. And once everything was spotless (or at least most of the apartment looked better), it was time for a shower. 

"Do I get a shower too?" Duo wondered hopefully. 

"You don't need one," Heero replied. 

"It wasn't me getting clean that I was really thinking of," said Duo, managing to sound coy and licentious at the same time. 

"You sitting outside the door worked just fine earlier." 

"Well, yeah, I'm not interested in toilet business." Now the tone was 'righteous indignation' mixed with 'shudder.' "A shower is totally different." 

Heero laughed, set Duo down just outside the bathroom door, and closed the latter against the doll's further protests. 

Having given a lot of thought to what was asked of him for the coming month -- both last night while he lay awake in bed with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep, and today on and off while he cleaned -- he'd foreseen the shower question arising, and _had_ considered letting Duo sit on the bathroom counter facing away from him. He had found, however, that he couldn't bear the thought of getting his business done in the shower in the presence of the unavailable, inhuman guy he had a crush on -- especially when that guy (in hypothetical human form) figured increasingly in his thoughts at those moments, and even if that guy ostensibly wasn't looking. 

Right now, as he stood under the hot water and felt the sweat and cleaning products of the last couple of hours wash off his skin, his considerations were following a different track. He was thinking about that brief exchange they'd just had, and how interesting it was (and not really in a good way) that Duo flirted constantly with both Heero and Quatre but never with Trowa. 

Heero was about as far from being flirtatious by nature as anyone he knew, but somehow with Duo it was easy. Conversation in general was easy with Duo. Duo even made him laugh. He didn't laugh with most other people, but with Duo it happened frequently. Heero wondered whether all of this was simply because he _liked_ Duo or because Duo, not being human, failed to set off some kind of subconscious alarm in Heero's head that went off for most of the rest of the world and caused him to stiffen up. Then, maybe it was because Duo didn't set off the alarm that Heero liked him in the first place. 

Thinking about Duo too much in the shower was going to get him in trouble one of these days, especially as things now stood... but thoughts about Duo's nature and how it had been affecting Heero almost couldn't help but lead to other reflections... such as a recurring daydream about a human Duo and what he would be like. Which was, in Heero's mind, the same as the Duo he knew now -- the same fascinating mix of casualness and intensity, the same silly carelessness atop intelligence sharp as a knife -- but with a knockout body to match. And to such imaginings there was only one possible end. Which was why he really couldn't have Duo in here while he showered. 

Once he was clean (physically), he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom. And as he bent down to retrieve Duo from the floor, the doll wolf-whistled at him. If Heero managed not to blush -- not necessarily at Duo's teasing reaction to his nudity, but at receiving such a gesture at all from someone about whom he'd been actively fantasizing not five minutes before -- it was only because he was so surprised. "I didn't know you could whistle," he said. 

"Neither did I, until just now," replied Duo in his 'shrug' tone. "I guess necessity really _is_ the mother of invention." 

Heero snorted. "So it was _necessary_ for you to whistle at me?" 

"Yeah..." said Duo slowly, pensively. Then, as if he'd thought it through carefully and come to a conclusion, he repeated with more surety, "Yeah. There are some things words just don't work for." He started whistling again, seemingly experimentally; at first it was a patternless meandering of notes, but eventually it turned into something that sounded a bit like the intro from _Knight Rider_ (not that Heero planned on admitting he recognized it). Listening to the little sound, which was thin and high like a bird's song, Heero looked through his closet, abstractedly considering what he should wear. 

"That is the greatest thing ever," Duo declared, breaking off whistling. "I wonder how long I've been able to do that." 

"If you could do it all along," Heero ventured, "you would probably have noticed before now." 

"I think you're right," agreed Duo cheerfully. "So it was probably all you." 

Heero set Duo down on the dresser and began looking for clean underwear. "So necessity wasn't really the mother at all." 

"No," Duo replied, affecting a serious tone worthy of a soap opera. "It was you all along. _You_ were the mother of my invention, Heero." 

And there Duo had made him laugh again. It was almost uncanny. Heero stepped back into the closet to get dressed. 

"Well, now the apartment's cleaned up," he said when he emerged, "we've got a few hours to kill before dinner." 

"We could watch TV," Duo suggested as Heero picked him up, but at the expression immediately turned down upon him went on hastily, "No, I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Don't kill me!" 

"I'm going to find something to eat," Heero said. "Then maybe we can finish Ozma or something." 

"Oh, good idea," agreed Duo. "I've gotta know what happens." 

Heero smiled slightly and headed for the kitchen. 

Interruptions for tangental discussion dragged out their finishing the third Oz book until nearly six o'clock, at which time Heero picked Duo up again and frowned down at him. "It's about time to go," he said, and wasn't really surprised to find his tone somewhat surly. 

"And don't _you_ sound excited," Duo sympathized. "Why are you looking at me like that." 

"Listen... I'm sorry about this..." Heero sighed. "I can't... I can't carry you in there. I've thought about it, and I just can't take a doll to my parents' house and try to explain it to my mother. You're going to have to go in my pocket." He touched one of the cargo pockets on the pants he'd chosen earlier for this very purpose. 

"Why are you apologizing?" Duo chuckled a little, apparently half amused and half bitter. "It's not like I don't understand." 

"Well, look. This is the only situation where I _ever_ plan on doing this to you. Everywhere else, even work, I plan on keeping you out in the open. But I just don't think I can face walking into my parents' house with you in my hand. And I want you to know that's because you're a doll, and because things are the way they are with my parents, _not_ because it's you." 

"I..." Duo at a loss for words was a rare sight, and even now it only seemed to last a moment. Heero wished very much that Duo's range of facial expressions was greater, because he would have liked to know exactly why his statement had had this effect. As it was, the moment passed and they were back to the usual meaningless flirtation: "So otherwise you wouldn't mind taking me to _meet your parents_, huh?" 

"That's right." Heero smiled faintly. "So it's really OK to put you in my pocket?" 

"You'll probably have to bend me over," Duo told him suggestively. 

Heero rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "Sometimes you try too hard." 

"I'm aaalllllways hard," Duo drawled, which Heero supposed was perfectly true. "Now help me get into your pants!"


	39. Part 38

  


The pocket plan evidently wasn't actually to be implemented until they reached the place, so Duo got to sit in the passenger seat of Heero's rusty old car again. He would rather have been on the dashboard so he could see out the windows, but little purchase was available there for someone that couldn't really hold on, so instead he satisfied himself with looking at Heero. And as they progressed through town toward Heero's parents' house, it was as if they were also traveling back in time to the first day they'd met, back to that unresponsive, mistrustful Heero that didn't smile. 

Duo watched him with what would have been undisguised curiosity and concern if his current predicament didn't so effectively disguise anything he didn't choose to verbalize, wondering, through the cool silence that had muffled the car's interior, what in the world was going on between Heero and his parents that could cause this kind of reaction. Heero usually seemed so intensely _effective_, as if there was nothing he couldn't do and no situation he couldn't handle... even a magical talking doll hadn't fazed him for long... What was it about his family that he seemed to feel he had to put up a barrier against? Duo had to remind himself that people were sometimes really strange about their parents, which was one of several reasons he was rather glad he'd never met his. 

He'd been hoping to see some of the Asian district, where Heero had informed him his parents lived, or at least to catch a glimpse of the house that was their destination, but Heero put him into his cargo pocket before leaving the car. He _did_ have to bend him over to get him in, which Duo was _definitely_ going to bring up again later when he got the chance, and, not at all to the doll's surprise, he was still apologizing as he snapped the pocket shut and trapped Duo in darkness. 

Honestly, after the various toyboxes and backpacks Duo had occupied over the years, a pocket was nothing particularly onerous. It was better, as a matter of fact, in that he could still hear what was going on around them fairly well and reflect complacently upon the warmth of Heero's thigh all along his body. He couldn't actually _feel_ the warmth of Heero's thigh, but the awareness that it must be there was comforting, and he could probably work it into a suggestive remark later. For the moment he just listened hard. 

Heero seemed to have arrived before his sister, which meant he was alone with his parents in the house for a few minutes, and Duo was hopeful of hearing something informative during this time. At first he was disappointed when they greeted each other and went on in Japanese, but it didn't take long, even through the unfamiliar language, for him to pick up on the stiffness in their statements. After a brief, cool exchange, the mother left the room, and Heero had only his father to talk to. The latter had a quiet voice much like his son's, and didn't seem to have a lot to say -- but was this because he was naturally taciturn, or because whatever was going on was making _all_ family conversation awkward? 

When the sister, Relena, arrived, bringing with her a guest by the name of Colin, the atmosphere warmed up quite a bit, and Heero dropped out of the conversation almost entirely. Fortunately, Colin didn't seem to speak Japanese, so things at least became intelligible, even if there was still an entire aspect to the interactions that Duo was missing. 

"Hello, Colin," was the first thing anyone said in English (it was the father). "Very good to see you." 

"We're always so glad to have you over," agreed Heero's mother, who'd come back in to greet the newcomers in a much more welcoming tone than she had used on her son. "Would you like some coffee or tea before dinner?" 

"No, thanks, Mrs. Yuy." Colin had a friendly, polite voice that sounded faintly British. "I think Le wanted to show me something." 

"Yeah, we're going to look at some of the photo albums. He won't believe I bleach my hair until he sees photographic evidence." Relena, like her brother, did not seem to have their parents' slight accent, and it occurred to Duo to wonder when the family had immigrated. 

"All right," said the mother. "Ten minutes, OK?" She managed to sound both fond and authoritative at the same time. 

"Come with us, Heero," Relena commanded in much the same tone as her mother's. "It's no fun to laugh at old pictures of you if you're not there." 

Heero evidently had nothing to say in response to this, but the alacrity with which he obeyed indicated that he would definitely rather be with Relena having old pictures of himself laughed at than with his parents trying to think of something to say next. And it was also clear, within two minutes of his leaving his father and mother behind, that the problem lay with them, as Duo had guessed, and not with his sister and her friend. 

Duo would have given quite a lot (not that he really had anything to give) to see the photos the latter were exclaiming over, which seemed to be twenty years' worth of Yuy family memories. The question of Relena's natural hair color was settled almost immediately, but still Colin kept bringing it up. Duo, practiced flirt that he was, could easily tell that this was purely for the sake of complimenting her on the effect she achieved and teasing her about her supposed vanity, and the relationship between the two became a little more clear. 

"And here's _another_ one of us playing in that refrigerator box," Relena laughed. "I swear we got half a year out of that thing before it fell apart." 

"How many costumes did you two _have_?" wondered Colin in amusement. 

"You could always tell it was us, though," remarked Relena slyly. "Because I always wore that stupid princess hat with the streamer, and Heero always had that look of heroic determination." 

Now Duo was absolutely _dying_ to see these pictures. This was so unfair. 

"And never smiled, apparently," Colin added. His tone suggested he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was allowed to tease Heero yet. 

Heero made a noise that might have been a snort and might have been a faint laugh, and there was the slapping sound of more album pages being turned. 

"_Wow_, Le, you were a pretty kid." 

"There's no need to sound so surprised about it," said Relena in mock indignation. 

Colin laughed, and, from the sound of it, kissed her. "But seriously, look at these... you were even the prettiest baby I've ever seen!" 

"I think that one's Heero, actually." 

"Oh. Hey, Heero. You were the prettiest baby I've ever seen." 

Heero made the same noise as before; Duo was fairly sure now that it was a sort of quiet snort of vaguely amused acknowledgment. He hadn't said a word since he came in here, and _still_ the conversation seemed less awkward than the one he'd previously been having with his father. 

Relena and Colin continued to discuss the pictures in a manner calculated to allow for as much flirtation between them as possible, Heero remained wordless, and, in the darkness of Heero's pocket, Duo was kicking himself mentally all of a sudden. 

How was it that he had never mentioned to Heero that he could choose who heard him when he spoke? He could make all the comments he was dying to make about Heero's family and the sister's boyfriend, and nobody but Heero would hear him... except that doing so might startle Heero into a demonstration of surprise that would be noticed by the others and necessitate some kind of possibly embarrassing explanation, and Heero would not thank him for that. But, dammit, if only Duo had remembered to tell him beforehand... 

Eventually -- actually, Duo thought it had been very precisely the promised ten minutes -- the mother called them to come have dinner. Duo was pleased; if he wasn't to be allowed to see the photos, at least he could hope for some kind of elucidation on the family issues through the next overheard conversation. 

This next conversation turned out to be simply a continuation of the current one. "Mama, whatever happened to those old costumes we always used to wear when we were kids?" Relena was asking as (to the best of Duo's knowledge) they were all sitting down around the dinner table. 

"They are in a box in one of the bedrooms," the mother answered with surprising immediacy. She didn't even seem to have to think about it. Duo remembered, back when he'd owned things, sometimes being unable to locate the ones he used every day; something in a box from however many years back would undoubtedly have been lost to him forever (or at least until he came across it by accident while looking for something entirely different). 

"Let's see," said Colin. "In the pictures I saw a ballerina, a musketeer, a princess--" 

"Several princesses," Relena corrected him. "Different dress, different princess." 

"Several princesses," Colin conceded in amusement. "And a... was it a fox?" 

"And then I'd combine them. Fox-princess Vixine of the Forest Kingdom had a long run, and so did Jzi-Jzi the fencing ballerina -- who, actually, I think was also secretly a princess." This was met with general laughter, and Relena went on enthusiastically, "Heero did that too: I think Princess Jzi-Jzi employed musketeers in addition to being one herself, or they were part of the ballet? Or something... but Heero couldn't tell anyone that he was a musketeer serving a secret princess, because..." She trailed off, laughing, as she tried to remember. 

"Because the coach of my football team had a rule against being part of any other organization," Heero supplied at a deadpan. 

"Yeah, he was a bit of a jerk," Relena agreed. "But wasn't that the game where you died in my service and became a zombie? And you were so strong and fast then that you were the star of the team and the coach stopped caring what you did as long as you were there to win the games for them?" 

"Because everyone knows how _fast_ zombies are," put in Colin, breathless with laughter. 

"That's right," said Heero. 

It was a good thing Duo had gotten so much practice keeping silent in the face of extreme provocation, because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to prevent himself from laughing aloud with the rest of them. This was _definitely_ something he was going to have to bring up with Heero later. He wished he knew how old they'd been... it had probably been obvious from the pictures, but of course he hadn't seen them. 

One thing that made it easier to stay calm and not give himself away was the interesting fact that the laughter of Heero's parents had ceased rather abruptly the very moment Relena had mentioned his name. Relena and Colin were laughing enough to cover up the lapse, but Duo hadn't failed to notice. Why was Princess Vixine of the Animal Kingdom amusing when zombie musketeer football player Heero wasn't? Moreover, why did the mother suddenly change the subject at this point by asking Colin some stupid polite question? What _was_ going on here?


	40. Part 39

  


"And how is your work, Colin?" asked Heero's mother in her formal way. 

Colin, the type of casual yuppie you would expect to have a pastel cardigan tied by the arms around his neck, was adjusting admirably to Mrs. Yuy, despite not having spent a huge amount of time with the future in-laws yet. "Very good, thanks," he replied in equally polite tones. "In my current position, I really enjoy my work, which I think a lot of people can't say that." 

"And we hear you're very good at what you do," Heero's father commented. 

"I like to think so," Colin smiled. "Of course, it helps that I'm best friends with the manager... but still I think I do pretty good work even without the favoritism." 

Relena laughed. "That sounds just like Heero." She grinned cheekily at him. "How's _Quatre_ doing, Heero?" 

"Fine," he replied levelly. "Busy, as always." He gave one corner of a smile to acknowledge the fact that she was teasing him, but couldn't complete the expression: once again their parents had gone abruptly, stiffly silent as Relena had sought to include her brother in the conversation. 

Relena's face took on a thoughtful expression. "Do you guys still hang out with those dentists?" 

"Yes," Heero replied. God, they did, didn't they? In fact, they were all going to be playing tennis on Saturday, weren't they? And Heero was going to be carrying a _doll_ to that, wasn't he? 

Well, he'd told Duo he meant to keep him out in the open as much as possible, and he didn't plan on making a lie of that. He would just have to think up an excuse for Duo's presence before Saturday. He would probably have plenty of opportunity to do so during the coming work-week... 

"Are they any good? I need to go see a dentist." 

Here their mother broke in somewhat sharply. "Why do you need a dentist?" 

"Oh, this crown in back is bothering me again." 

"But didn't Lindsay refer you to her dentist?" 

"Yes, but I didn't like it there." Relena looked like she was going to continue, probably to reiterate her question to Heero, but their mother jumped on her pause. This was no surprise; she was obviously in take-control-of-the-conversation mode. 

"Colin, you've met Lindsay, haven't you?" She'd turned to Relena's fiance again with her polite smile, and when Colin, taken by surprise, nodded rather than answer with his mouth full, she went on immediately. "Lindsay is so nice, isn't she?" 

"I was lucky to find a roommate on such short notice," Relena said, agreeing only obliquely. "I hope I've given _her_ enough notice so she can find someone to take my room in July." 

"Not just that you found a roommate," their mother said, forcing the issue, "but you found someone so _nice_." She looked around pointedly. 

"She _is_ nice," Colin agreed earnestly, as was expected of him. 

"She may want to buy my car," Relena put in somewhat hastily. "That'll make things easier, since I won't have to list it anywhere." 

"That _would_ be convenient," Mrs. Yuy nodded. "What a good friend she is to you. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like her around, I think." She didn't have to look over at Heero; she had a way of _not_ looking at someone that produced essentially the same result as if she had. "Didn't you say she isn't dating anyone, though?" 

Relena shared her mother's talent for pointedly not looking. Now she, too, didn't look at Heero as she answered calmly, "That's right." 

"How strange!" 

Frustrated, Heero rose somewhat abruptly. "Excuse me," he said, and left the dining room. He moved briskly down the hall with its noren-hung cream walls, entered the green bathroom, locked the door behind him, and turned on the fan for cover. Then he extracted Duo from his pocket. 

"Hi," said Duo. 

"Hi," replied Heero darkly. He stared at the doll silently for a long moment before asking, "How are you doing in there?" 

"Just enjoying the drama," Duo said in his 'grin' tone. "But your sister seems pretty nice." 

"She is." Heero gave a somewhat curt nod, then felt his lips pressing together as if he never wanted to speak again. Which was pretty much the case. 

Duo seemed to pick up on this, for all he said was, "Well, hang in there." 

Heero nodded again, then returned Duo to his pocket. He didn't want to discuss 'the drama,' it was true, but he wouldn't have minded being able to express to Duo how unexpectedly bolstering it was to be able to exchange even these few, meaningless words with him in the middle of it. Perhaps sometime he would, if he could figure out a way to do it without confessing exactly how he felt about Duo at the same time. 

Back in the dining room, the conversation had taken a turn for the slightly less annoying, and Relena smiled apologetically at Heero as he resumed his seat. After that, he was more than happy to be awkwardly ignored for a while. But before it was even time for dessert, it started again. 

They'd returned to the briefly-touched-upon topic of Relena's car, and were discussing how much she was likely to get for it and what sort of vehicle she and Colin were looking to purchase together. Heero knew what was coming; he hadn't really expected to get through the night without it. 

"You should buy Relena's car, Heero," said their mother at about the moment he'd know she would. "That would work out nice for everybody." 

"I don't need Relena's car, mama," Heero replied flatly. 

"Yes, you do," she said. "You can't keep driving that thing you have." 

"There is nothing wrong with my car." 

"It's disgusting," she said. And she really sounded disgusted. 

"It doesn't matter what it looks like." And it didn't really matter what he said; they never listened. "It gets me places." 

"It's a _disgrace_." And she really sounded disgraced. 

"Your mother's right," his father put in. "Someone who makes as much money as you do should be ashamed to be driving a car like that." Because shame always had to come into it somehow. 

"Relena's car would be much more appropriate for you, don't you think?" said his mother in a tone that mixed wheedling and authoritativeness. 

"I don't think it's 'appropriate,'" responded Heero tightly, "to be looking for a different car when mine runs just fine." 

"But, Heero, it isn't _right_..." The mixture of exasperation and despair in his mother's voice was harsher than the discussion really warranted... but, then, the car discussion was never _really_ about the car anymore, so that was no surprise. 

"What, that ancient BMW out there?" Colin wondered, seeming a little nonplussed by the fairly rapid-fire and inexplicably intense exchange. "What's wrong with it? I mean, other than that it's obviously twenty-five years old..." 

"Do you remember," said Relena suddenly, with the air of one that has just had an idea so striking she can't help but mention it despite its only tangential relevance to the current conversation, "how when I was younger I was determined that my first car was going to be a pink limo?" 

Colin turned to her immediately, obviously captivated by this revelation. "Were you?" 

Relena nodded with a somewhat sheepish grin. "Pink used to be my favorite color, like probably every other little girl at some point or other, and I _loved_ limos. I had my heart set on having one for the longest time, even when I should have known better. It was a serious part of my financial planning for the future until I was, I think, seventeen? I had a brand picked out and I was actually looking into dealerships by the time I lost interest." 

Heero's parents had subsided by the time his sister was done with this explanation; the next time he caught Relena's eye, he made sure to give her a grateful smile. 

"Well, maybe we'll get you one someday." Colin was beaming at his fiance; evidently he thought the entire thing was some sort of adorable. Heero, who knew Relena and her determination a little better than did Colin, thought his future brother-in-law would do better to be relieved that Relena had actually given up that particular fixation. 

This led to a discussion of the couple's investment plans -- which Heero was convinced would not have been in such an advanced stage at this point if it hadn't been for the pressure from his parents -- and allowed Heero to drop out of the conversation again. Soon it was time for dessert, and Heero began silently counting down to the moment he could leave. 

Ice cream in the living room seemed like it was going to turn into a family game of some sort, and it came as no surprise to Heero that no one specifically urged him to join or sought his opinion on what they should play. Therefore it couldn't have come as a surprise to any of them when he finished eating in fairly hasty silence and stood up to leave. 

"Are you going, Heero?" Relena also stood, and went to hug him. It was a very purposeful gesture, but seemed to have been wasted on their parents. Colin, however, shook hands with him and said, in that way of his that would have been smarmy if he weren't so perfectly honest and straightforward, that it had been good to see him again. 

"Goodbye," was all his parents said, and this when Heero had already turned his back and taken a few steps toward the hall. And it wasn't particularly cold or unfriendly, just... stiff, as if they couldn't think of anything more to say, or were unwilling to say what they could think of. 

"Bye," Heero replied in almost exactly the same tone. Then he had to restrain himself from moving with undue speed toward the front door and his car on the driveway and escape.


	41. Part 40

Duo wanted nothing so much in the world as details about Heero's family and the current situation thereof, which he had just so imperfectly witnessed, but, as it had in the bathroom halfway through dinner, something about the set of Heero's jaw during the drive home told Duo not to ask. Heero's bad mood seemed to have crystallized over the course of the evening, leaving him hard and cold and very unapproachable, and Duo didn't like it one bit. 

Heero obviously didn't like it much either. With a look that was part scowl and part introspection -- Duo wondered if it was the same one he'd worn as a kid, the one Relena had described as 'heroic determination' -- he stalked into the computer room the moment they were home, pulled a book from the shelf, didn't forget to disallow Duo to see the rest of the books, and marched back to the living room. There, he put Duo onto his end table and sat down against the near arm of the couch. 

"I need to think about something else for a while," he said darkly, and held up the book, which proved to be the next volume of the Oz series. "Do you mind?" Once hastily assured that Duo didn't -- because, curious as the doll was, there really wasn't much else to say -- Heero started in. 

Duo had realized pretty quickly the reason Heero had seemed embarrassed at first about the idea of reading things to him: though he obviously enjoyed it, Heero appeared to regard reading aloud as a type of performance art, and to suffer just a touch of stage fright as a result. This had smoothed as they'd progressed through the Oz series, but it wasn't entirely gone -- and Duo thought Heero was now actually _focusing_ on the slight awkwardness he still felt at doing it in order to forget the other awkwardness of the evening and distract himself from his related feelings. Duo was torn between sympathy and amusement. 

Heero also seemed inordinately exhausted; evidently, even considering how little he'd actually done or said at his parents' house, the dinner had drained him like some kind of physical exertion. He was half-draped over the arm of the couch, almost unmoving, his face slightly overlapping the flat side of the book while his increasingly quiet words echoed off the other, perpendicular side just beyond his nose. And eventually he fell entirely silent, his eyes drifting shut and his hand stilling against the page. 

Duo observed this in equally still silence. He'd found last night that watching Heero sleep wasn't actually the worst boredom he'd ever suffered. Heero really was very pleasant to look at, and there was an unusual softness to him as he slept that merited contemplation. Duo wanted to touch him, to find out the texture of his hair and feel his warm skin; he wanted to cuddle up against him and just breathe with him. Hell, when it came to that, he'd like to breathe at all. Too bad. 

Perhaps ten minutes after Heero's eyes had closed, Duo was startled from his long staring by the sound of Trowa's door. He swiveled his head in some surprise to see Quatre emerging. As he began the slow process of turning his stiff body to face the newcomer, he said in mock accusation, "You've been over there for, like, twelve hours... If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cheating on me." 

Quatre fixed eyes on Duo that seemed at first not really to see him at all, focused slowly, and finally smiled. "Your boyfriend and I," he replied, doing a good job getting into the spirit of flirtation despite seeming a little poleaxed for some reason, "just had lunch... dinner... some kind of meal... in... Paris." 

"Huh!" Duo said. "I wouldn't have thought he knew any place in France well enough to jump to." 

"I guess he used to do research there. That artifact originally came from France." 

"Ohhhhhh. OK." That explained that, but not what had taken twelve hours. "So... you guys just randomly hopped over to France and had some kind of meal, and then...?" 

"Well, he wanted to come back and do that psychic field spell on Heero, but I..." Quatre laughed and shrugged a little. "I took French in college, but I hardly ever get a chance to _use_ it. Once I was actually there, I didn't want to leave... so I dragged him around with me looking at things all night." He smiled sheepishly. "It was his idea to go there in the first place, and then I had to go all tourist on him. The sun had come up by the time we left." 

Duo laughed as well, far more heartily than Quatre. "Good!" he said. "Get him out of the house more often, why don't you? Especially now that he doesn't need to do all that research anymore." 

Quatre gave him a curious, thoughtful smile, drawing closer and looking down past Duo at the sleeping Heero. "You know, I'm not sure why we didn't come grab you two and take you with us too... It's only the house he wants to keep you out of, away from that artifact... I think Paris is far enough away that it wouldn't have been a problem." 

"Oh, I wouldn't have intruded for the _world_," Duo drawled. "Besides, we had dinner with Heero's family, remember?" 

"Oh, yeah..." Quatre's smile turned into something more like a grimace. "How did _that_ go?" 

"Actually, I wanted to ask if you had any insight on that, while he's asleep--" Duo made a fabulous elbow-driven gesture in Heero's general direction-- "since it seems like it bugs the hell out of him: _what_ is going on there? I mean, they ignored him half the time, and the rest of the time... I'm not supposed to be able to feel things, and I was in Heero's pocket anyway, and _I_ could feel that tension." 

Quatre sighed. "Heero came out to his parents when we were juniors in college, and then they barely talked for almost the entire next year. Things kinda smoothed out after that, and they were all OK for a while, but then Relena got engaged a few months ago and reminded her parents all about the straight wedding Heero isn't going to be having and the grandchildren Heero isn't going to be providing them." 

"Yeah, OK, that all fits..." It all _sucked_, too, but at least it fit. "But if it's been years since he came out, they should totally be over it by now." 

"They _try_ to be reasonable." Again Quatre sighed. "They try not to get on his case about it... but then their disapproval comes out over other things. Little things." 

"OK, that explains... yeah..." 

"The problem is that I think underneath everything else, they still believe all that wonderful stuff people do -- he's going through a phase, he only thinks he's gay because he hasn't met the right girl yet, you can't have real love between two men, that sort of thing -- and as long as they think that way, they can never _really_ accept it." 

Duo was trying to force his stiff facial features into a scowl, and feared it wasn't working. He knew he was frowning, but with painted-on eyebrows the rest of the expression was difficult. "That's infuriating," he muttered. 

"I think if they could see Heero in a positive, long-term relationship," Quatre speculated, "they might start to overcome their false impressions. But so far nobody's been able to get that close to him, because..." He trailed off, looking at the figure on the couch and obviously not wanting to get into such personal details when Heero was right there, asleep or otherwise. 

"Really?" Duo wondered. But his momentary surprise quickly dissolved as he considered the invisible wall he'd often thought he observed just beneath Heero's exterior. He hadn't felt it so much lately, himself (tonight obviously being an exception), but he could understand how difficult it might be for someone to 'get that close to' Heero. 

He wondered how close _he_ was, and whether Heero thought of him as a friend or just an object of charity. He _would_ have told himself that people didn't read their old kids' books aloud to those they just considered objects of charity, but he had a feeling that reading aloud was about as prototypical a charitable activity as you could possibly take part in. He _was_ fairly sure that charity usually didn't involve discussing the question of Ozma's transsexuality, though, whether Tip might not have been her correct gender identity, and whether or not she could therefore be considered gay for Dorothy. That was a reassuring thought. 

Finally, somewhat weakly, he took up the lagging conversation again. "Well, I hope he..." 

"You guys are talking about me, aren't you?" Heero mumbled, slowly unsticking his face from the pages of Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz. 

"Shit, he's waking up!" Duo cried. "Quatre, quick, finish telling me what else he's got on his bookshelf!" 

Quatre raised a skeptical, amused brow, but played along even on such a brief cue. "Well, there's the Hardy Boys..." He really was remarkable, Quatre; Trowa was an idiot if he didn't notice. But, then, if they were watching the sun come up together in Paris, that probably wasn't a problem. 

Heero sat bolt upright. "Quatre--" he began in a suddenly dangerous tone. 

"And that's all I remember," Quatre finished neatly. 

Duo laughed. Heero scowled. 

Quatre reached out and patted his friend on the head in a deliberately patronizing gesture. "Go to bed, Heero. You don't want to be late for work in the morning." 

"Go to bed yourself," grumbled Heero grouchily. 

"Good night, then," Quatre said. But even as he turned away, Duo could see his grin fading into a look similar to the one he'd worn when he'd come in from Trowa's house: a sort of shell-shocked expression -- not displeased, but not entirely sure what to be instead. And as he reached for the apartment door he murmured, apparently entirely to himself, "Quelle journée..."


	42. Part 41

  


Trowa found himself unusually restless on Monday afternoon. It wasn't simply that he was unable to concentrate on the book he held and the notes he was taking -- _that_ he was more than accustomed to -- but that he could barely bring himself to sit still at all. He kept drifting out of his comfortable chair and out of the study to look through the little windows in the front door, as if he were waiting for someone. And eventually he realized that this was, in fact, precisely the case, and explained what was wrong with him. 

It didn't really matter, of course, that Quatre hadn't shown up for lunch, nor could it surprise: Quatre had gone back to work today, and wouldn't have time to be forcing food into antisocial misanthropes... and yet Trowa, almost without knowing it, had been expecting him. Realizing this now, hours after the fact, he found himself recognizably disappointed that Quatre hadn't appeared. How very different from before, when he'd considered Quatre just another follower... 

Ever since Friday evening, he knew, his attitude toward Quatre had been changing, and yesterday had only hastened the process. He doubted _anyone_ could spend an entire day with Quatre and fail to be struck by his almost aggressive good will -- a natural talent that Quatre seemed to have honed into a razor-sharp skill and practically made a business procedure out of. Quatre didn't just _want_ to help people; he _strategized_ to help people. 

But even friendly concern had its limits, and perhaps Trowa had been too extravagant yesterday. Maybe the choice of Paris had been a bit... strange. Not that Paris was any more difficult for him to get to than any other place he'd visited before or could fix on a good clear mental picture of... but it _said_ something more. People had a... _thing_... about Paris, didn't they? It was a symbol. Trowa was definitely not up to speed on cultural implications, but, even back when he had been, taking someone to Paris meant something totally different, something above and beyond accompanying them to some random seafood restaurant in a little east coast town. 

It was just that when Quatre had looked at him with those flawless, shining grey-blue eyes and called him by his old nickname and said "Please?" as if he were asking for a personal favor rather than trying to get Trowa to do something healthy for his own good... well, the impulse that had overwhelmed Trowa hadn't been just to comply, to do anything Quatre asked -- he'd been downright determined to _impress_. That was what it was. Something about Quatre, at least in that moment, had made him eager to _show off_. 

True, there might have been, in the back of Trowa's head somewhere, a faint desire to see Paris again for himself, but all _that_ had really done was contribute to the ease with which Quatre had convinced him to stay and walk around the City of Light like an idle tourist instead of getting back home and casting that spell on Heero. And perhaps Quatre, on reflection, had decided he didn't like how easily-swayed Trowa had been when there was something else he should have been doing. Or maybe Paris really had been too much. 

In any case, whatever the reason, Quatre hadn't come over for lunch today, and that probably meant he was not going to be doing so routinely in the future either, and Trowa would just have to feed himself. He was under the impression that this had been the point: to get him into the habit of eating at about the same time every day so that he would continue even when Quatre was no longer at leisure to come compel him. 

Although Trowa was conscious of hunger, however, what he did _not_ feel was any inclination to do anything about it. It had only been seven days in a row that Quatre had come over for lunch -- the span of an indrawn breath in comparison to the forty thousand Trowa had lived -- and yet, even in that short time, Trowa had gotten used to more than just a regular midday meal: it was the company that made all the difference. Eating lunch simply wouldn't be the same without Quatre there. 

This was not, of course, the only thing about which he was brooding today. He'd gone to Heero's apartment that morning to catch him before work and divine the precise dimensions of his psychic field, wish him luck, and say hello to Duo -- and this had served to remind Trowa of how little control he had over the situation, how much he was being forced to depend on someone else, and how easily everything could go wrong during the coming month. Such was the surface of his thoughts, from which he'd been trying to distract himself with books and notes; but it wasn't what was causing his restlessness. 

And then he heard his front door open. 

Surprised, he made his habitual inquiry as to who the visitor was, and felt an even greater surprise at the discernible pleasure the answer, "It's Quatre," occasioned in him. He put his book aside and rose, thus meeting Quatre halfway across the room. 

"Hi," Quatre greeted him with brisk cheer. "Have you eaten anything today?" 

"No," Trowa replied, eschewing the explanation of why, precisely, this was. 

"OK." Quatre sounded a little relieved, which seemed amusingly at odds with his desire for Trowa to eat regularly. "I usually take my lunch at one, which I didn't even think about is four over here. For some reason it never crossed my mind that if I was going to make you eat on a work day, it'd have to be an early dinner." 

Trowa hadn't considered the time difference either. "Oh," was all he found to say. 

Quatre smiled. "So come have dinner," he commanded, and turned. 

Watching him walk back toward the study door, which he'd left open, Trowa didn't follow just at first. Quatre had easy but controlled movements that seemed to match his temperament very well, and the suit pieces he wore -- charcoal grey slacks and a pale pink shirt with a candy-stripe tie -- looked particularly good on him. They also fitted well enough that Trowa judged they must be some expensive brand or perhaps even custom tailoring. None of this was at all important, his brain informed him... but his eyes, for some reason, begged to differ. 

As he moved to catch up heading for the kitchen, "How are Heero and Duo doing so far?" Trowa asked. 

"I don't know for sure." There was a definite hint of laughter to Quatre's tone. "I haven't gotten any miserable emails from Heero yet, and that's a good sign. I'm definitely going to get a report from him after work, though, about how the first day went." Trowa nodded, and the motion clearly caught Quatre's eye. "You look like you didn't get any sleep last night again. What have you been working on?" 

"If you can call it working," replied Trowa somewhat darkly, "I've been making some notes about that book I've been thinking of writing." 

Quatre looked over at him again from where he'd begun surveying the contents of the freezer as if he hadn't bought all of them, and his eyes shone with interest. "Really? You're starting on that already? Before the curse is broken?" 

"I need something to distract me," Trowa admitted. "I can't help Heero with this, and worrying about it all day won't do any good." 

"How sensible of you!" Quatre commended him. He'd turned back to the freezer, but Trowa could see the amusement on his face and hear the slight teasing tone in his voice. 

"You say that as if I'm generally without sense." Trowa was a little surprised at the good-naturedness of his own reply. 

"Weelllllll..." said Quatre reluctantly, though still with that repressed grin. "When it comes to things about Duo..." He pulled a box from the freezer and turned toward the microwave. 

"You're probably right about that," Trowa agreed gravely, though in actuality he felt lighter at the moment than he had in longer than he could remember. 

Presently, as he set about readying whatever they were eating this evening, Quatre asked, "So what kinds of notes are you making?" 

This was something Trowa could talk about more easily. "I'd like to produce something comprehensive," he explained. "A number of magical guides have been written in the past, but most of them are either too general or only focus specifically on a narrow category." At Quatre's nod of understanding he went on, "So I'm looking through existing books on magic and noting down what areas they're lacking in. And where they're incorrect," he added. "They often are." 

"But you know better, huh?" 

"You'll have to take my word that I'm not boasting. With the artifact, I am extremely powerful, which allows me to see the truth about many aspects of magic others can't." 

Quatre turned his smile on Trowa as he moved to gather dishes. It was such a remarkable smile... it seemed to have its own gravitational pull. "I believe you," he assured Trowa. Then thoughtfully he added, "Hey, are there schools for magic?" 

"I've never heard of any, but I've never looked." 

"Wouldn't it be fun to start one?" Quatre's tone was a mixture of dreaminess and enthusiasm. "You could be the headmaster and I could be your squib caretaker." 

It wasn't even close to the first time Quatre had made some statement that was clearly a reference to something out in the ever-changing world with which Trowa was totally unfamiliar. Typically when people said things like that, Trowa simply ignored them, as the effort to find out what they were talking about was rarely equal to the satisfaction of knowing... but all of a sudden he felt that, for some reason, he wanted to know what Quatre meant. Unprecedented, but there it was. So he asked. 

Quatre turned toward Trowa again, looking amused and contemplative. "I'm not really surprised you don't know," he said. He started handing dishes over, which constituted an unspoken command to help set the table. "You'll probably find it pretty funny, actually." He lifted their two plates, which were now full of corn and potatoes. "I'll tell you while we eat."


	43. Part 42

Apparently Heero's psychic field was four feet, ten and a half inches wide on all sides; and apparently that inch and a half off the estimate was due to the fact that he had a certain innate level of control over his area of psychic influence. Among other things, Trowa had explained that untrained magic manifested differently in everyone, depending on personality, and remarked without offering any attempt at interpretation that Heero's psychic field was simultaneously more withdrawn and more heavily-concentrated than it would have been if he hadn't had magical ability. None of this information was really all that important, though, as the essential goal of keeping Duo as close to him as possible remained unchanged by it. 

They had made it all the way to lunch without anyone remarking on Duo's presence on his desk -- despite at least two people having come to his cubicle -- and that alone, Heero felt, was cause for celebration. Having nothing particularly special for lunch, however, and being completely unable to locate Quatre, the celebration consisted of sitting in his car with the windows down talking to Duo. Which was actually something very much like Heero's idea of a perfect celebration. 

"So I keep forgetting to tell you," Duo was remarking as Heero bit into his sandwich. "If someone hasn't ever picked me up, I can decide whether or not they hear it when I talk." 

"Really?" Heero wondered in some surprise. 

"Yeah. I can move, too, as long as it's nothing too big, and they won't see it," Duo elaborated. "It's all about psychic field connection. So I can talk to you in front of your co-workers, just as long as they don't pick me up. Although," he added in his 'grin' tone, "you probably shouldn't answer anything I say in front of anyone." 

"Yes, I..." Heero shook his head with a sardonic smile. "I figured that much out." After dealing with another bite of sandwich he went on, "Well, this is good to know." 

"I know! I don't know why I kept forgetting." 

"You were probably hoping to startle me out of my wits by announcing it in the middle of a conversation with three other people." 

Duo made an insulted noise. "Would I do that to you?" 

Heero gave him a skeptical look, but what he said was, "I like to think not." 

With a chuckle, Duo changed the subject. "Well, so far it looks like you've got about the most boring job in the world." 

"Maybe... but I do make fifty-five thousand a year," Heero shrugged. 

"God!" If Duo had been human, this exclamation would undoubtedly have been accompanied by his sitting up abruptly straight from a slouch in the passenger seat. "Do you know what _I_ made at _my_ last job?" 

"I can't even begin to guess." 

"Twenty dollars a week!" 

"What did things cost back then, though?" Heero wondered reasonably. 

He didn't know what he was asking; he had no idea that such a casual, innocent question could lead to his being late back from lunch. But apparently changing economic conditions and inflation were extremely interesting. Either that or Duo was. In any case, Heero didn't even think about the time until a figure appeared outside the car and a blonde head bent down to grin at him through the window and interrupt what he was saying with, "Afraid to go back inside, are we?" 

Heero started slightly at this, glanced at the clock, then back at Quatre. "Speak for yourself," he said, beginning to gather up the soda can and Ziplocs that had been lying between the seats and stuffing them into the bag he used for trash. "Where have _you_ been?" 

"Trowa's house," replied Quatre complacently, "and, yes, I'm late too." 

"Just Trowa's house?" Duo wondered as Heero reached past him to close the passenger side window. "Nowhere exciting today?" 

"Nope," Quatre confirmed. He withdrew from the window to allow its closing, then stepped back as Heero emerged from the car with Duo in his hand. "So how are you guys doing?" 

"Not too badly," was Heero's cautious answer. He still felt like everything must blow up in his face at any time, and didn't want to jinx it into happening sooner. After locking his door and pocketing his keys, he turned to join Quatre walking into the building. Perhaps, he was reflecting, it would be a good idea in the future not to sit in _this_ parking lot... he'd been so distracted by his conversation with Duo that he'd let Quatre walk right up and hear them. If it had been someone else, someone not in on their little secret, Heero would have had some explaining to do. 

"So nobody's given you hell yet?" Quatre was wondering. "Nobody's tried to steal you, Duo?" 

"I _am_ quite a steal," Duo admitted in a tone of facetious arrogance. "But I don't think anyone's even noticed me yet." 

"Was it just me," Heero remarked conversationally to Quatre, "or did he sound _disappointed_ when he said that?" 

"Hey, you'd be disappointed too," protested Duo, "if you looked this fabulous and then people didn't notice." 

"I think you've just been insulted, Heero," Quatre said. 

"Who says he was talking to me?" was Heero's deadpan retort. 

In a very serious tone Duo reassured them, "I think _both_ of you look extra-special super-fabulous." 

Quatre laughed. Heero rolled his eyes. And after this, following a brief confirmation of their NCAA Championship plans for that evening, it was time for them to go their separate ways. 

Heero had made a place for Duo on his desk between the "This _is_ my smiley face" coffee cup in which he kept pens and the calendar that provided a tired Happy Bunny statement for every day of the year (both gifts), and this left the doll visible in the corner of his eye when he faced his computer. He liked that, but tried to remind himself not to get too used to it. It was far too easy to objectify Duo when Duo was, in fact, an object, but Duo wouldn't be in this state forever. 

"So what's on the work menu for this afternoon?" Duo wondered once they were both settled. 

After telling him about the San Jose office that was testing a new sales program the company was working on alongside a software developer, Heero explained, "As Sales Coordinator, I get to work with the transactions made in this new system to see how they integrate with our existing programs. I'm going to take a look at what they did this morning." 

"Oh, wow," remarked Duo. "That sounds really, um..." He paused as if searching for the right word, but never actually said it. For at that moment someone approached Heero's cubicle from the sales floor. 

It was Sylvia. "Heero," she began before she even reached him, "you remember the Arons thing from, like, 08? I _know_ it went through; I was _there_; but for some reason I just _cannot_ find it... anywhere... in... the... Is that a Ken doll?" 

"It's got a double 'a,'" Heero said, utterly ignoring the spoken question and answering the one she hadn't completed. "A-_a_-r-o-n-s." 

"Oh, that explains..." She shook her head as if to get rid of something stuck to it, and her ponytail bounced vigorously from side to side. "Seriously, Heero, why do you have a Ken doll on your desk?" 

Heero looked over at Duo, whose stiff little grin, he thought, was a touch wider than usual. "Because I feel like it," he said stonily. 

"Okaaaay..." She was obviously stifling laughter as she turned to walk away without thanking him for the information. 

Why had he said that? He'd had an excuse all ready -- not a very good one, probably, but better than _"Because I feel like it"_ \-- but somehow found himself unable to use it. Well, the problem was that her tone had been just a little teasing, in addition to innocently curious, so Heero had gotten defensive. The list of people from whom he accepted teasing was incredibly short. 

"Very smooth," Duo remarked. And how had _he_ gotten onto the list so quickly? It had taken Relena, Heero's own _sister_, thirteen years. 

"Oh, shut up," Heero replied, entirely without malice.


	44. Part 43

Duo saw now what it was that Heero had been afraid of, though the flood of attention and Heero's reaction to it, after the blonde woman had left and undoubtedly told everyone in the world what she'd discovered, was a little different than what Duo had expected. 

The first one's excuse was something business-related, but she dropped it almost immediately when Heero pointed out that she'd asked him precisely the same question before lunch. "OK," she confessed, "I just came to see if Sylvia was lying or what. You really _do_ have a Ken doll on your desk!" 

Heero just stared at her, expressionless, and she didn't seem to have the nerve to formulate an actual question. She just looked down at Duo, giggling, for several moments, then retreated. 

"I thought you were going to present some reasonable excuse," Duo said as he watched her disappear from his view. 

"Maybe," replied Heero darkly and cryptically. 

The second curious co-worker, not half an hour later, was a pretty, pale lady with glossy black hair the style of which reminded Duo a bit of Trowa's. She came and leaned against the edge of the cubicle wall, looking in at Duo silently with a mysterious little smile. Her gaze might almost have been called 'calculating' if not for the amusement in it. 

"This one's kinda starting to creep me out," Duo confessed after a minute or so of her staring and Heero stubbornly ignoring her. 

Heero started a little; it _was_ the first practical reminder that Duo could talk to him in front of people, after all. But then he turned to face the woman abruptly and said, "Yes?" somewhat snappishly. 

"It's interesting what the contents of someone's desk say about them, isn't it?" she mused. "It's like a little biography." 

"Are you on the clock?" 

"Nope." 

"Then you shouldn't be on the floor." 

"Yes," she conceded, "you're probably right." And she continued to stare impudently at Duo. Finally she asked casually, "So is it a character from something?" 

"He's--" Heero began, evidently before he could stop himself, and then stopped himself. "Break room," he commanded. 

She raised a finely-penciled eyebrow. "OK, OK," she said, and sauntered off. 

"Weren't you going to tell people I was a present or something?" Duo wondered idly. 

"Yes," Heero sighed, "but..." 

Duo waited, but the explanation didn't come. Heero had gone back to his computer with a closed-off expression, and Duo thought he could see why the co-workers were a little hesitant to ask him at least certain questions. What he still couldn't quite see was Heero's reluctance to answer. 

The third woman to appear was already giggling as she entered the cubicle, and this, Duo thought, accounted for the set of Heero's jaw as he turned to face her. 

"Hee hee, he's so cute!" she was saying. "Look at his little shoes!" 

Heero did not reply, only looked doom. Duo had the feeling that the woman's original intention had been to reach out and pick him up, but under Heero's malignant eye she kept her hands to herself. She did ask, however, "What's his name?" 

Heero continued to stare at her for a long moment, then finally said, "Did you have some work-related question, Carol?" 

Carol giggled again and bounced away. 

"Heero, I don't think it would kill you to tell them _some_ of these things," Duo grinned once she was gone. 

"It's none of their business," Heero muttered. 

"Yeah, but you being mysterious about it isn't going to make them _less_ curious." Really, Duo was more amused than anything else to find that Heero seemed to consider these innocent questions _too personal_ to be answered despite the fact that he'd come specifically ready to answer them. 

After muttering something else unintelligible, Heero went back to what he'd been doing. 

Duo was getting the impression that, whatever else 'Sales Coordinator' implied, Heero was the go-to guy for the entire sales team, however big that was. Evidently he knew everything that went on in this department throughout the whole Pacific Division (whatever that was), and his computer was like an all-knowing oracle's pool: an endless supply of information from which any question could be answered if Heero didn't already know off the top of his head. 

Thus it was no surprise, when someone approached him asking something largely incomprehensible about 'the deal with Tri-Bluestein,' that Heero knew exactly where to look for the answer and found it in about ten seconds. But Duo watched this time with greater attention than he had when people had asked Heero things this morning; he was more interested now in Heero's relationship with his co-workers. 

Provided there was actual business involved in the exchange, not just people coming to giggle at Duo, Heero wasn't exactly _rude_, but he certainly didn't waste words. His manner was withdrawn, professional in a cool sort of way, and utterly impersonal. Duo was under the impression that Heero had worked here for three or four years and had been in his current position for at least two, but evidently this didn't translate into any sort of closeness whatsoever with his co-workers. 

Slowly it was beginning to dawn on Duo that perhaps the Heero he'd been getting to know, the one he so enjoyed messing around, the one he discussed Oz books with, the one that had played selections from a dozen CD's for him in an attempt to expand his musical horizons, the one that had agreed to this month of silliness for his sake, was not necessarily the Heero the rest of the world got to see. _This_ Heero was more like the one Duo had met at first and that had emerged again to some extent at his parents' house: the quiet, suspicious one that was obviously much happier to avoid people than deal with them. 

This revelation couldn't be anything but pleasant. He'd been worrying about Heero's walls without realizing he was past at least one of them already. And while he definitely wasn't complaining, he wondered how on earth it had happened. 

"Heero!" By the sound of it, here was another encroacher curious and not legitimate. She _did_ have an excuse, though. "Can you email me the information on the convention in San Francisco? You have it, don't you?" 

"Didn't Dorothy give it to you already?" Heero asked suspiciously, though he'd already started getting it for her even as he said this. 

"I lost it," she said cheerfully. 

"You did not," replied Duo equally cheerfully, although she couldn't hear him. 

She _could_, however, take advantage of Heero's distraction to turn on Duo. "He doesn't look like an actual Ken," she remarked without preamble. "I had, like, four Kens when I was a kid; they never made them with that much hair even when they _had_ actual hair." 

"She's right," Duo acknowledged. 

Heero had nothing to add, and didn't seem to be paying attention. As the woman reached down toward Duo, however, Heero's hand was suddenly there, blocking her access to the doll, without seeming to have moved. And finally he volunteered some information. "He's a collector's item." 

"Special edition," Duo advised. 

"Special edition," Heero repeated flatly. 

"Oh," said the woman, withdrawing her hand. "So why do you--" 

"I sent your information," interrupted Heero in a tone of finality. 

"OK, thanks," replied she, making an impressively businesslike recovery. And she turned on her heel and departed. 

Duo watched her thoughtfully, then said, "I've got an idea." 

"Yeah?" said Heero. 

"Well, that gal earlier with the eyeshadow--" 

"Noin," Heero interjected, without having to ask for any more details of appearance than that. 

"Well, _Noin_," Duo went on, "asked if I was a character from something. So, what if I was? Wouldn't it be easier to put me in, like, a Star Trek uniform or something and just let everyone think you're a big Star Trek fan? It'd be an easy explanation, if you felt like explaining at all... and if you didn't, well, it'd still be kinda obvious on its own, because I'd be sitting here in a Star Trek uniform." 

Heero raised an eyebrow. "I think you just want a Star Trek uniform." 

"Um, maybe," Duo admitted. 

"Anyway, don't you think it's a bit late for that?" Heero was frowning pensively now, obviously giving the suggestion more thought than he had a moment before. "You've been sitting here all day." 

"Well, there has to be _someone_ who hasn't come to stare at me yet... besides, it's not like you've answered _anyone's_ questions..." 

Heero continued to look thoughtful, but he didn't say anything for several moments. Finally he admitted, "It's not a bad idea..." He turned back to his computer. "Let's see what we can find..."


	45. Part 44

He was trying to avoid admitting, to himself or anyone else, that the first workday of the curse-breaking month hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd been expecting. Which didn't mean it hadn't been bad, but he hadn't been ready to pull his hair out at any point during the day, and -- more importantly -- he'd gotten by without sending a single panicked email to Quatre. Not only that, but he'd been able to enjoy the basketball game after work without (much) brooding over how the day had gone or anxiety for tomorrow. 

And then tomorrow had come. 

It was 8:03. He was barely settled in his cubicle, had barely arranged Duo in the same spot as yesterday, and had barely started fielding questions about the other contents of his desk -- just the questions Duo hadn't gotten around to yesterday, for one reason or another -- when it started. 

"Heero, want a donut?" 

"Not on the floor," he answered promptly. "You know food isn't allowed out here." 

"You are such a hard-ass," Duo laughed. "Besides, you know she's only here to see me." 

Heero _did_ know it. If Sally's real intention had simply been to offer him a donut before everyone else ate them all, she would merely have peeked over the wall of the cubicle, not come walking in and right up to his chair. 

"Are you sure?" she asked. "It's a cake donut..." Some of his co-workers were more perceptive than others, but the number of them that knew of his love for cake donuts could probably be counted on one hand; he might even have said on one finger if it weren't for Sally's propensity to tell Noin _everything_. 

Heero wavered. 

"Dooo iiit," Duo urged. 

Repressing a smile, Heero steeled himself. "Not on the floor," he reiterated. "But thank you." 

"No problem. I'll put it under a napkin in the break room and maybe nobody will see it." She was bending down to look at Duo now. "How come he doesn't have any socks?" 

He'd expected some sort of remark or question about Duo eventually, but this one came so smoothly at the end of her statement about the donut, and was so unexpectedly specific, it actually startled him into answering. "I have no idea." At least he did manage to cut his response short before blurting out that socks hadn't been included with the outfit and he'd never really thought about it until now. 

"It's OK," Duo reassured him. "I don't need 'em." 

Sally peered at Duo even more closely. "I think he'd look better in purple," she said at last. 

Heero was ready this time, and was able to stifle his _"So do I"_ without too much effort. 

"Or a different red," was Duo's comment. "This one's kinda blah." 

"Especially if he's a gay thing," Sally added as she stood straight again. "Purple would be more appropriate, don't you think?" And then she walked away. 

Left staring alternately after her and back at Duo, the latter's surprised laughter in his ears, Heero couldn't help remembering his mother's comment, _"Relena's car would be much more appropriate for you, don't you think?"_ He was reflecting on how strange was a world in which he could be given veiled negative hints about his sexuality on Sunday evening and then commended on an apparent display of it on Tuesday morning in such similar words. 

Eventually Duo stopped laughing and said, "So that's what they're thinking: that I'm some kind of gay symbol! Isn't it great to not tell people anything and then see what they come up with on their own?" 

Finally Heero smiled. "I doubt that's something _you_ do very often." 

"Yeah, well..." 

"And it isn't a bad idea..." Heero went on musingly. Everyone on the sales floor knew he was gay -- actually they all thought he was dating Quatre -- though he was damned if he knew _how_ they all knew, since he'd certainly never specifically told any of them. And since they were aware of his disinclination to talk about it, it should make sense to them that he didn't feel like talking about the new pride symbol on his desk either (as contradictory as it seemed to have a pride symbol you didn't want to talk about). 

"But when I have my _Starfleet uniform_..." said Duo gleefully, giving the words the emphasis of extreme satisfaction. 

Heero's smile widened. He didn't really believe that a Star Trek outfit on Duo was going to change anything, make Duo less conspicuous or help him look less like the property of a very gay man; nor did Heero think he could pass himself off as enough of a nerd for it to give the desired unspoken indication to his co-workers as to why Duo was there in the first place. The fact was, there weren't many gifts he could buy for Duo at this point, and he'd jumped on the chance to get him this one the moment it was obvious Duo wanted it. He'd even paid extra for overnight shipping. 

"Knock-knock!" Heero absolutely hated it when people said that instead of just knocking, door or no door, but there wasn't much to be done about it. In came one of the IT guys from downstairs, moving with that confident restlessness all IT people had when they were moving at all. "Hey, 3-9-1, you know the whole building's talking about you?" 

"I could have guessed," said Heero through gritted teeth. 

The IT guy -- whose name Heero could not remember and whose badge currently sat at an impossible-to-read angle -- went for Duo so fast that Heero didn't have a chance to stop him. He snatched the doll up and began turning him over and around, examining him, with an impudent grin on his face. "It's like you're that guy from _The Simpsons_. Um, what's his name... That guy who's gay for his boss and has all the Malibu Barbie dolls..." 

It so happened that Heero knew exactly what he was referring to, but wasn't about to offer any assistance. 

"Hey, let me take this downstairs and show the--" 

At this, Heero was out of his chair so fast it crashed into the desk behind him. "_No._" And he'd reached out and taken Duo back, pulling him protectively close to his chest in a tight grip, before the IT guy could even blink. The guy stared at him, and Heero tried hard not to blush at the thought of how utterly bizarre and childish that must have looked. And he was drawing a blank trying to come up with anything to say that might explain it. 

Finally the guy forced a laugh, and said, "You've lost it, man," as he turned to leave. 

Heero let out a long, frustrated breath once he was again alone with Duo, and reflected that it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. How was he going to get through the day if this sort of thing kept happening? How was he going to get through the _month_? 

"Those are some quick reflexes you've got, 3-9-1," Duo remarked. 

Heero sighed. 

"What does it mean?" 

"Oh, IT people live in their own little world... they think it's cool to call people by their workstation numbers." 

"Riiiiight." Duo's tone clearly indicated that he'd understood essentially none of Heero's statement. 

With a little snorting laugh, Heero smoothed out Duo's rumpled hair and clothing and replaced him between the coffee cup and calendar. 

"Seriously, though," Duo went on, "that was well done. You were like _whoosh_ and totally rescued me from that guy." 

Fighting off a blush for the second time in five minutes, Heero mumbled, "Well, I couldn't just let him walk away with you." 

"My Heero!" said Duo cooingly, forcing Heero to turn hastily toward his computer because there really was no stopping _that_ blush.


	46. Part 45

Duo thought he could spend many an hour dwelling exclusively on the idea that he was Heero's gay symbol without getting tired of it. However, since there were other things going on that he wanted to pay attention to, he saved that dwelling for later; it would be a good way to occupy time tonight when Heero was asleep. 

For now, he was starting to wonder just how many people worked in this building, and how many of them were willing to abandon their work completely in order to come interrupt someone else's just because they'd heard he had a doll on his desk. Of course, Duo reflected, it probably had more to do with Heero's reputation than the mere presence of a doll... but, seriously, this level of general interest was weird and a little scary. 

The worst one of the day came just before lunch. She didn't greet Heero the way most of them did; she didn't bring an excuse; she didn't ask questions or hesitate or anything; she only bounded into the cubicle, making an enthusiastic high-pitched noise of some sort, and caught Duo up in both hands. 

"He's so cute!! Carol said he was so cute, and he _is_!!" 

Duo hadn't even gotten a good look at her before he found himself suddenly becoming acquainted with her chest in a manner that really reinforced the size differences between his body and an actual human's. Suddenly he couldn't see a thing, and there was a substantially muffled quality to the woman's next exclamation. "I have to show him to Stephanie!" And then she was running. 

Panic gripped Duo, all the worse for his being completely unable to do anything about it. Well, sure, he could talk to her, try to get her to stop, but it might already be too late. Where was she taking him? Where was Heero? Had he been able to follow, or was the woman too quick? Duo tried desperately to remind himself that they were only a few days into the month, that starting over at this point wouldn't kill them... but of its effect on morale -- particularly Heero's -- he didn't dare think. 

"Hilde!" This was definitely Heero's voice, reassuringly close, though muffled like everything else. He did _not_ sound happy. 

"Oh, my god, look!" cried the woman Duo guessed was called Hilde. "This is that doll of Heero's!" And Duo emerged at last from the valley in which he'd been clasped to find himself thrust into the face of another woman, presumably Stephanie, who looked surprised. 

"Seriously? I thought that was just a joke!" 

And Heero was there. As in at least one instance yesterday, he seemed simply to appear, without having moved, to snatch Duo out of the hands of the enemy with adrenaline speed. "Hilde!" he snapped. "You can't just take things off of people's desks!" 

Hilde made a disappointed sound. Duo would have liked to look at her, but he found himself once again pressed, face-first, up against someone's chest. He didn't mind this one so much, though; in fact, in the midst of agitation and confusion, having Heero pull him against his chest was pretty much optimal. If only he could really _feel_ it, instead of just coldly knowing it was happening. 

"Well, at least let Stephanie see him!" demanded Hilde, evidently completely unfazed by Heero's dire tone. 

Heero took a breath deep enough to move Duo's entire body, slowly relaxed (though he did not release) his two-handed grip, and allowed Duo some distance away from him. Duo didn't dare turn his head, so he could only see the two women out of the corners of his eyes. One of them -- Hilde, he thought -- seemed to be making some kind of excited gesture, while the other -- Stephanie, perhaps less unfazed than her friend -- was sitting quite still. 

"Isn't he _so_ cute?" Hilde prompted. "I love his hair!" 

"Yeah, he's cute," said Stephanie dutifully. Duo definitely thought her lack of enthusiasm was due to Heero's manner, and this was totally understandable; Heero was now pushing past Hilde, heading away from the two women without saying anything else, and his movements, as far as Duo was able to read them from his current position, could be described as 'stalking.' 

He didn't dare say anything while he didn't know whether or not Hilde might be following, and it was a few moments before he noticed that Heero didn't seem to be returning to his cubicle. Rather, they were now in the hallway outside of the big room Heero referred to as the 'sales floor.' Heero stepped briefly into the break room before making his way, if Duo was not mistaken, toward the elevators. And not until they were inside one of the latter, thoroughly alone, did Heero's tension fade. He slumped back against the railing on the wall and dragged one hand over his eyes with a ragged sigh. 

"Did she..." Duo began somewhat tremulously, not certain he wanted to know. 

Evidently aware of exactly what Duo was trying to ask, "No, I got after her in time," Heero said, sounding tired. "But if that happens again I swear my heart's going to stop." 

"Mine would still be racing if I had one," replied Duo. "I thought for sure we were going to have to start the month over." 

"This has got to calm down once everyone's come around and had a look at you," Heero said desperately. "They can't all keep doing this forever." 

"You _could_ put me in a drawer or something." 

"No," Heero said quietly as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out on the ground floor. He checked for anyone nearby that might observe him talking apparently to himself before he went on, "I'm not doing that to you unless I absolutely have to." 

That heart Duo had just mentioned as nonexistent was warmed by this. "Well," he said reassuringly, "remember, if it comes to that, that I'm totally used to it. Add it all up and I've probably spent a total of twenty years or something inside toyboxes with nothing to do but think about how boring it is." 

"God, Duo..." Heero sounded horrified. "That is so--" 

Duo broke in hastily, "Hey, I didn't mean to play a pity card there. I mean, yeah, it sucked, but it's nothing you need to worry about. Hell, you're the one who's going to _fix_ all of that. If you want to pity me," he added thoughtfully, "do it because boobs have been ruined for me forever." 

Heero was walking through the parking lot now, and forbore from responding just then as he passed somebody coming the other direction. Once he was approaching his own car, however, and nobody else was in earshot, he said, "OK, now, boobs _what_?" 

"Boobs have been ruined for me forever," Duo repeated. "That was _traumatic_, man. She pushed me up between those things, and everything went dark, and I couldn't hear properly, and I didn't know where you were... I'll never be able to look at a woman's chest again!" 

"Um, Duo..." Heero seemed torn between laughter and further horror as he set Duo down in the passenger seat. "You _are_ gay, aren't you?" 

"Yes! But that doesn't mean I can't -- _couldn't_ appreciate nice breasts. Before. Before today. But never again." And he made a shuddering sort of noise. 

Now Heero really did laugh, though the sound was still somewhat baffled. He'd turned on the car, and was starting to back out of the parking space. "I probably shouldn't be driving," he muttered a moment later, "since my wallet's in my briefcase inside..." 

"You _did_ kinda bat-out-of-hell out of there," Duo grinned. 

"And I'm not going back until two," was Heero's grim reply. Which, given that it wasn't even one yet, meant he would be taking an over-long lunch for the second day in a row. This didn't really bother Duo, of course, but he did hope Heero wouldn't get in trouble because of it. 

"And then I think you're going to _have_ to put me somewhere other than where I've been sitting," the doll said. "It's too easy for people to get at me there." 

Heero nodded. 

Evidently wherever he was driving wasn't too far from the office parking lot, for he was already bringing the old car to a stop and turning off the engine. Then he rolled down the windows, as he had yesterday, and picked up the lunch-cooler-bag-thing he'd seized from the break room fridge. 

"Where are we?" Duo asked. 

"Shopping center parking lot," Heero replied. "The far end where nobody parks except when things get really busy." He'd extracted his sandwich and Coke and little bag of chips. "We should be safe here." 

"Aww, Heero, did you want to be _alone_ with me?" 

"Yes!" 

So startled was Duo by the intensity of Heero's answer that he couldn't think of any clever reply. He knew the desire to be away from the curious co-workers probably had a good deal more to do with how emphatically Heero had spoken than any desire to spend time alone with Duo (something he actually did quite a lot); but even so, it was exactly what Duo liked to hear, and might have made him blush a little if he'd had circulation and flesh and all that. 

He wondered suddenly why he didn't just _tell_ Heero that he liked him, instead of giving him stupid lines all the time. Heero _seemed_ totally unaware of him in that sense, responded only neutrally to his flirting, and basically treated him like an unfortunate friend... but Heero was so private about so many things, how could Duo be _sure_? Heero was a nice guy; he would let him down easy if that was what it came to. What was the worst that could happen? 

OK, well, the worst that could happen was that Heero really was every bit as disinterested as he seemed, the confession would make the necessity of keeping Duo within five feet of him incredibly awkward, and Duo might actually lose his chance at becoming human. And that... that was a pretty bad 'worst.' 

But the moment the curse was broken... 

For right now, though, he thought something perfectly innocuous to talk about was in order. So, cheerfully, he began relating a dumb story about the Chevrolet 490 Trowa had bought back in the day, and speculating about what had happened to the thing, while Heero sat in the driver's seat and ate his lunch in silence.


	47. Part 46

  


When Quatre went looking for Heero on the sales floor at lunch time, he found Heero's jacket draped over the chair in his cubicle and Heero's briefcase still down by the desk, but no Heero to go with them. The computer had already gone to sleep, though, and Quatre looked around, puzzled, for a few moments. 

"He left about twenty minutes ago," someone said from behind him. The sharply polite tone with its touch of judgmental amusement identified the speaker, even before Quatre turned, as the sales manager Dorothy. "I'm not sure what you two did on your week off," she went on, "but it must have been distracting." 

If _that_ wasn't ironic, Quatre didn't know what was. Still, he'd only come to find Heero in the first place to tell him that he was again going to Trowa's house for lunch/dinner, so this didn't exactly throw a wrench in his plans. He thanked Dorothy for her information and left. 

As he drove, he spent a few minutes wondering what could have caused Heero to leave so early for lunch without his things. He hoped nothing had gone wrong. He might have considered calling him to find out, but he'd seen a cell phone lying on the desk as well, and speculated that his friend wanted to be out of reach of all human communication at the moment. Besides, the mild concern Quatre felt at these slightly mysterious events couldn't keep full hold of his mind when he was on his way to see Trowa. Because Dorothy had been right -- about him, at least: what he'd done over his week off _had_ left him distracted. 

He did reflect, though, as he let himself into Heero's apartment, that it was a little strange to be doing so under these circumstances. 

There was no sound from any of the other dark rooms as he came into Trowa's entryway, so, in keeping with that, he moved as quietly as he could in closing the front door and heading into the study. And he found, in the light of the lamp Trowa used so exclusively in this room, exactly what he'd been expecting. 

It wasn't the first time he had come in here to find Trowa asleep as if he'd never slept before and would never have another chance. This time, Trowa was slumped forward on the table in a position that looked excessively uncomfortable, his head pillowed on a large, unreadable book. It reminded Quatre of Heero a few nights ago... except that Heero, of course, hadn't made Quatre want to reach out and touch. 

Trowa looked so very tired and pathetic asleep there like that, as if he simply hadn't been able to keep his eyes open or his body upright one moment longer, his skin slightly grey and almost glowing as if he were feverish -- although when Quatre, unable to resist, put out a hand and ran his fingertips lightly across Trowa's cheek, he felt nothing more than regular human warmth. 

The temptation came over Quatre all at once in a sort of heart-pounding shiver when Trowa did not stir even in the slightest at his touch, and he obeyed the impulse almost without thinking: bending, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the pale cheek, feeling the soft skin give just slightly under his kiss and taking in the more pronounced scent of old books that did not come solely from the actual old books in the room. And suddenly he found himself looking into a bright half moon framed by thick, beautiful lashes that had just parted unexpectedly. 

Quatre stood straight and stepped back in a quick, startled movement, blushing furiously. He shouldn't have done that. Why had he done that? Why did Trowa have to look so damned irresistible? "I'm sorry," he said, almost without meaning to. 

Trowa was sitting up slowly -- evidently the position in which he'd been sleeping had left him stiff and sore -- staring at Quatre. Finally, with a gesture to his eyes, he said in a tone of slightly bitter concession, "They are rather horrifying, aren't they?" 

As he realized what Trowa thought was the reason for his abrupt retreat, Quatre felt his own eyes widen. "Oh, no!" he said in an embarrassingly impassioned tone. "No! Your eyes don't bother me at all. It's just, I... I shouldn't have done that." 

The expression on Trowa's face did not change, and his tone was completely blank as he asked, "Why?" 

It seemed an almost farcical question, and Quatre was for a moment at a loss for what to say, despite the answer being perfectly straightforward. Finally, however, he did manage it: "Well, it's a little rude to kiss someone else's boyfriend." And if his blush intensified as he said this, at least it was only a very little. 

"I'm no one else's boyfriend." Trowa made the remark flatly, but Quatre thought his demeanor also suddenly held a touch of curiosity and perhaps relief -- on which Quatre might have dwelt with some pleasure if the information he'd just received hadn't abruptly swallowed up the entire world. 

A stammered, "But... Duo..." was all he could manage. 

A faint smile twisted across Trowa's face. "Duo and I were never lovers." He turned his eyes toward the book he'd been asleep on a minute before. "We _were_ in love, back then, I think... I think we were _both_ using that woman to make each other jealous, and that argument that started all of this... was not really about her at all." He was toying absently with the book's pages, seemingly looking far past it with unfocused eyes. "We accused each other of not caring, but neither of us had ever admitted that we _did_ care..." 

"And..." Quatre felt as if he'd stopped breathing. "And do you still care?" 

"Not anymore. Of course I still love him," Trowa added, pointlessly flipping through the book he wasn't actually looking at, "but not in that way." He said it with all the conviction a level, unemotional tone could bring, but Quatre wasn't sure he believed it. After all, Trowa had gone all these decades without being able to let go of his guilt and misery over a situation that was not entirely his fault... How likely was it that he'd been able to let go of this? 

"Are you sure?" Quatre asked quietly. 

Abruptly Trowa turned away from the book and the table and looked up at him. His shining eyes were perfectly focused now, the faint moonlight that emanated from them almost piercing with the intensity of the gaze. "Yes, Quatre," he said very seriously, "I'm sure." 

The smoothness of Quatre's subsequent movements somewhat belied the fact that they seemed to take place without any initial cerebral impulse: he stepped forward again, leaned down, ran one hand along each side of Trowa's face and down to his neck so his thumbs could press against Trowa's jaw and lift his head into a better angle, and kissed him. 

Trowa's lips felt simultaneously fuller and more hesitant than Quatre would have expected. He certainly responded -- in fact, he snaked an arm up and around Quatre's neck, as if to make absolutely certain he stayed where he was, almost immediately -- but he seemed very unsure of himself. Abstractly, in one of the few small corners of his consciousness that weren't on fire, Quatre speculated that Trowa hadn't kissed anyone in almost a century, and had probably largely forgotten how. And there was something about his inexpert willingness to try it just the same that was overwhelmingly attractive. 

When they finally pulled apart, Quatre felt that the almost gasping breath he immediately drew was possibly the first he'd taken since he'd come into this room. He wasn't sure how much of Trowa's motion to stand was Trowa's idea and how much was Quatre tugging at him; and he wondered, as he wrapped his arms around Trowa's neck and pressed up against him, whether Trowa could feel how rapidly his heart was beating. 

"I don't know why you'd want--" Trowa began in a whisper. 

Sensing the self-deprecating nature of the remark even before it was completed, Quatre cut him off somewhat impatiently. "Well, if you'd rather I didn't..." 

"No," said Trowa almost fiercely. And as his lips sank to meet Quatre's again he repeated, "No." 

There was a feeling of preciousness to this kiss, as if the moment had been dipped in molten gold, and simultaneously a fragility that suggested it was crystal underneath. The movement of Trowa's mouth against Quatre's held a hesitant, almost tremulous quality, as if he might break away and flee at any time, and yet the arms that had slipped around Quatre's back clutched determinedly at him; and the whole experience was far greater than the sum of the parts _doesn't know what he's doing_ and _doing it anyway_. 

Eventually they drew away again, if only by a few inches, and Quatre stood staring into Trowa's moon eyes for several long moments, feeling the warmth of Trowa's wiry body against his and breathing in time with him. His heart was still pounding insanely fast in the midst of a tingling heat throughout his chest, and he felt simultaneously giddy and awed. He definitely hadn't expected this to happen today -- to be honest, he didn't know if he'd expected this to happen _at all_ \-- and, despite the fact that it had been brought about mostly by his own actions, he felt a bit blindsided. 

"Quatre..." Trowa said, almost under his breath, as if he were tasting rather than speaking the name -- or perhaps tasting the concept of Quatre's nearness. He went on quietly, and although Quatre thought he meant the words as a warning, his tone was almost childlike in the simplicity of its concern. "I don't know if I know how to... how to not be alone..." 

The rush of affectionate pity Quatre felt at this statement increased the pressure in his chest and impelled him to pull Trowa close to him once more, to reassure him in almost the same near-whisper, "I'll help you." 

And though Trowa seemed to have nothing else to say at the moment, his arms tightened again around Quatre's back as if they would never let go.


	48. Part 47

Trowa felt as if he'd been pushed unexpectedly into a deep pool, then just as unexpectedly found the water quite comfortably hot. He was off-balance, disoriented, perhaps drowning... and yet disinclined to struggle. 

The possibility that he might be attracted to Quatre in such a fashion had never even remotely occurred to him. Only when he'd awakened suddenly to find Quatre's lips pressed to his cheek and Quatre's breath on his skin had he realized, abruptly and shockingly, not only just how much he wanted him, but _that_ he wanted him. 

It should be no surprise, really, that he hadn't noticed until the idea was literally shoved in his face: it had been so long since he'd felt anything of the kind; he'd grown so accustomed to being alone; he'd been so used to considering pleasant social interaction something he'd cast off back when he'd cursed Duo -- even the concept of Quatre as a _friend_ had been difficult to get his head around... and yet it seemed marvelous, bordering on impossible, that any time had passed since meeting Quatre during which Trowa hadn't been conscious of a bone-deep desire to have his companionship in any and every way. 

Quatre usually sat two chairs down from him and talked cheerfully as they ate, but this evening he'd set his place across the table's corner from Trowa, right in the next spot, and at the moment was just looking at him and smiling. Trowa was glad there was currently no call for conversation, as his thoughts were a chaos of contradictory ideas and indecision, none of which he was likely to be able to put into words even if he wanted to. 

Not least among these was the concern he felt at Quatre getting himself into something like this. He'd been perfectly serious, when Quatre had wondered at the space of time Trowa had gone without friends, reminding him what he'd done to his last one: Trowa's friend was not a safe thing to be. To be something more was insane; there was nothing about Trowa that was worth that risk. And this was only one of several reasons he didn't necessarily think this was a good idea, much as he'd realized he wanted it. Yet when he'd tried to give some warning of this, all he'd managed to say was something about his own antisocial nature that Quatre had undoubtedly long since guessed. 

And Quatre's smile was so inviting... 

Trowa had been perfectly disinterested in eating for a very long time, but never in seventy years so much as right now. After Quatre's lips, the taste and texture of food seemed almost offensively bland to Trowa's mouth. He'd felt like he could go on kissing him forever, but Quatre had insisted on dinner. Now Trowa had no idea what he was eating, and could barely even turn his eyes toward it. 

"What are you thinking?" Quatre asked suddenly. 

Seeing no reason not to answer with the truth (if not the _whole_ truth), Trowa said, "What a wonderful smile you have." 

"Thank you," said Quatre, ducking his head slightly and looking momentarily quite pleased. "But you seem awfully serious to be thinking something like that. What _else_ are you thinking?" 

For perhaps the first time, Trowa turned his gaze down toward his plate, sighing. "I just," he said, "don't know if this is a good idea." 

Without needing to ask what 'this' he meant, Quatre inquired quietly, "Why?" 

Trowa opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn't have the words. How could he explain that, among other things, someone like Quatre didn't need to be putting up with all the trouble and unhappiness that must be attendant upon a relationship with someone like Trowa? That someone like Trowa didn't have any right to be making a claim on the thoughts and feelings and time and effort of someone like Quatre? 'I don't deserve you' seemed trite and overly dramatic, and yet how else could he put it? 

"You're afraid you'll hurt me," Quatre supplied quietly at last. 

And there was that too. Trowa nodded. 

Quatre said his name very seriously, and reached out to grasp Trowa's free hand. Trowa looked up into beautiful sober eyes that held his just as tenaciously as Quatre's arms had held him earlier. "I haven't seen everything you've gone through," said Quatre, "but I've seen what it's done to you -- and I don't believe for an instant that you will _ever_ do _anything_ like what you did to Duo ever again. You're an intelligent man who's learned from his mistakes." It had only been moments since his smile had faded and given way to that serious look, but its return was reassuring (as Quatre seemed specifically to intend). "You're not going to turn me into anything." 

"You can't be sure of that." 

"I can't," Quatre agreed levelly, "but I believe it anyway." 

Trowa returned to his tasteless meal without replying, the chaos in his head hardly diminished. He was simultaneously delighted and appalled that Quatre trusted him thus, and none of his other misgivings had been allayed. 

After several moments of silence, Quatre spoke again. "You _are_ willing to try, though, aren't you?" Trowa thought that, despite how confidently he'd phrased the question, there was a touch of concern to his voice that he couldn't hide. 

And right in the face of all his better judgment, Trowa found himself answering, "Yes," before he even realized what he was saying. 

Once it was obvious that each of them had eaten all he was going to -- singularly, Quatre seemed nearly as disinterested in food as Trowa was -- they set about clearing up. Somehow, though, to Trowa's pleased bewilderment, this turned into kissing against the kitchen counter. And Trowa certainly didn't care enough about the cleanliness of his dishes or the state of his dining area to mind neglecting them for this. 

He couldn't begin to think why Quatre was interested in him in any sense, and he couldn't imagine that someone whose only experience in this area had been almost ninety years ago could be in any way enjoyable to kiss... but since Quatre seemed willing, Trowa didn't question. He still didn't really believe this was a good idea, and he was awash with the same guilt that always overcame him the moment he started enjoying something, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. 

Quatre, he found, was bulkier than he'd expected; he wondered why this should surprise him, when he'd seen Quatre in t-shirts and knew he had well-developed arms at least. There was a firmness, too, to the way those arms held Trowa, not to mention the way Quatre kissed him, a strength and insistence that was also unexpected -- and, again, why this should be, Trowa did not know. Perhaps he'd been viewing Quatre as more fragile than he actually was simply because he was aware of what he was capable of doing to him. 

Then Quatre's hand slid into Trowa's hair, and his tongue teased at Trowa's lips, and all the cold, dark thoughts in Trowa's head began first to blur at the edges and then to fade into something shamefully like contentment. 

He wasn't sure how long Quatre put up with his amateurish kissing, but when the entry clock struck a quarter Quatre pulled away from him somewhat abruptly. "What time was that?" he demanded, startled. Trowa, who definitely hadn't been paying attention, shook his head. Pulling out his cell phone, Quatre checked. "Damn," he whispered. He was smiling ruefully when he looked back up at Trowa, his slightly-parted pink lips just a little swollen and, for the moment, absolutely riveting. "I'm already late. I've got to go." 

Trowa felt the one arm he still had around Quatre's chest stiffen, tightening almost instinctively, and he had to exert actual will power to make it release. To be honest, he didn't think this whole thing was going to last very long, but he also didn't think it was going to end this very same day it had started; there was no reason to hold on desperately to Quatre just yet. Not that he would have any right to do so whenever Quatre _did_ decide to call things off... 

Maybe Quatre sensed some of what Trowa wasn't saying, for he smiled again and said, "I'll come back after work." And then maybe he sensed the absurd pleasure Trowa felt at hearing this, for the smile widened into a grin and he lifted his face to kiss Trowa briefly one last time. Then, as he pulled completely away, he let one hand trail lightly down Trowa's chest before all contact between them ceased. 

Trowa followed him to the entry and watched him smooth out his rumpled shirt, then straighten his tie with one hand while he reached for the doorknob with the other. "See you later," was Quatre's goodbye. And Trowa, almost without knowing what he did, hastily moved up to the door as it closed to look through the little windows and follow Quatre's form with his eyes across Heero's living room and to the next door. 

Once Quatre was totally out of sight, Trowa stepped back and gazed dully around the dark entryway, seeing nothing, waiting for the real guilt to make impact.


	49. Part 48

Duo felt nothing less than resplendent in his new first officer's uniform, which he hadn't expected to be wearing for at least another couple of days yet. It was so nice of Heero to have had the thing shipped here so quickly, undoubtedly paying extra money to do so... Of course, he'd probably done it primarily out of desire to get more quickly at the excuse it provided, but, even so, Duo appreciated it. He felt like one of those awesome people that went to those awesome convention things in totally accurate costumes. 

So as not to miss anything that was going on around him during the day, he was getting into the habit of putting off his daydreams until Heero was asleep, and now he made a mental note for tonight: think about the (improbable) possibility that his clothing might grow to human size with him when the curse was broken, and he might end up with a full-sized Star Trek uniform he could still wear at that point. 

Heero had been keeping him just to the left of his computer monitor ever since yesterday afternoon, which made Duo impossible for anyone to reach if they didn't want to get right into Heero's personal space. It had done the trick so far: evidently Heero's personal space was quite the no-man's-land to his co-workers. Not terribly surprising, that. Duo's new location also, sadly, greatly reduced his ability to see much of anything besides Heero and certain dustier corners of the cubicle. Heero was, of course, an absolute treat to look at even at the worst of times, but it did make it more difficult to see who was coming and try to guess why. 

The _why_ was still usually 'to stare at Duo,' though most of the latest ones had been smart enough to provide work-related excuses as well -- and to a few, Duo thought, he was just an attraction additional to the assistance they legitimately needed from Heero. And the traffic was slowing, as Heero had hoped it would. By the end of the week, perhaps, things would be business as usual, with only a new eccentricity added to Heero's reputation. 

Mid-morning, yet another woman showed up to bask in Duo's splendor. There was something very eye-catching about this one; he thought at first that it was the pleasantly fat curliness of her red-brown hair, but the line of her nose and the shape of her eyes made him rethink this assessment. He certainly had time to do so, since she was just standing there, very quiet, poised slightly on tip-toe to look over Heero's shoulder. It appeared she didn't necessarily have any desire to talk to Heero, just to see Duo; and, while this would have been easy enough yesterday morning, Duo's new location made it nearly impossible today for her to observe him without alerting Heero. 

The latter seemed, as he sometimes did, to be very deliberately ignoring her. There was a difference to the way his eyes moved across the computer screen, Duo noticed, when he was only pretending to work. Evidently he was planning to see if she'd go silently away if he had nothing to say; maybe this would be the first gawping co-worker encounter to end without a conversation. 

This possibility was negated by Duo himself, however, when, a few moments later, he realized what it was about the woman's face that was so interesting. "She looks like Trowa!" he said in some surprise. 

Hearing this, Heero sat up a little straighter in his chair, pushing it back away from the desk slightly and causing the woman to start. Then he swiveled around to face her as she took a step away from him. By now his tone was more resigned than impatient in asking, "Did you need something?" 

"No," she replied, giving a smile whose irritation was clearly not aimed at Heero, "and I didn't mean to bother you. I wasn't going to come over, but they--" she made a somewhat impatient gesture toward the rest of the sales floor-- "wouldn't stop bugging me until I came to see this doll of yours." Now that Heero had moved, the woman was evidently able to get a more satisfactory look at Duo. She gave a decisive nod. "So now I've seen it. I'll get out of your way." 

Heero didn't respond verbally, only nodded as well and turned back to his computer. And the woman, true to her word, left without asking him any questions. Duo watched her go, then looked at Heero again. Observing narrowed eyes and lowered brows, Duo remarked, "I'd have thought you'd be happier about that one. It looked like she wouldn't even have said anything if you hadn't." 

Heero's lips tightened before he opened them to answer. "If even the people who _don't_ want to come over here and look are being pressured into doing it, we've still got a ways to go." 

"OK, you're probably right about that," Duo admitted. "But don't you think she looks like Trowa?" 

"Not particularly," replied Heero shortly. 

Duo mused on. "Well, I guess I know his face better than you do. I think his nose is pretty much the same as hers... she's rocking it, too; you don't see many women who look that good with a nose that strong." Heero offered no opinion, so after a moment Duo continued, "Something about the eyes, too... I think it was in the outside corners, or..." But without having her in front of him, he couldn't quite articulate the similarity. 

Still Heero said nothing. 

"You really didn't see it?" Duo pressed on. "I wonder if they're related..." 

Finally Heero volunteered something. "Well, her name is Catharine Barton," he said without removing his gaze from his computer monitor or slowing whatever he was typing, "if that helps." 

"What!? Really?? Barton??" This startled outcry won him a skeptical look from Heero, and he explained immediately, "That's Trowa's name!" 

Heero nodded his understanding and returned to his work, seeming singularly uninterested. 

"I bet they _are_ related. Let's see... Trowa'll be a hundred and twelve this year... she could be his great-great-great-great-niece. Do you know where her family comes from, like, five generations ago?" 

"It's not something that's ever come up in conversation," Heero replied dryly. 

Duo laughed. "No, I guess it wouldn't. But the next time you talk to her, you should totally ask her. Trowa ran away from his parents when he was _eight_, but I know they came from--" 

"Duo, once you're human, you can study the genealogy of every single person in this company in detail if you want. But at the moment, I really don't need to give any of them another excuse to come over here." Heero sounded a little impatient as he said this, and Duo's first instinct was to tease him about being grouchy... but he decided against it. After all, it didn't seem quite fair to be inflicting this situation on him and then to get on his case for reacting naturally to it. So he just watched the reflection of the glowing screen in Heero's eyes and said nothing more for the moment. 

If Heero had been in a bad mood that morning, Duo was pleased to find him over it by lunch time. They went to the same parking lot as yesterday and talked cheerfully while Heero ate, and Duo had nothing to complain of beyond his fierce desire to try a chicken salad sandwich like the one Heero had. 

"I'm not a bad cook," Heero told him when he expressed this sentiment. "When you're human, I can make you all kinds of things." 

"I have never once seen you cook anything ever," Duo declared in grinning disbelief. "Unless it came from a package or something, I mean." 

Heero shrugged. "I don't much like cooking for just myself." 

"But Quatre's around all the time!" Thoughtfully Duo added, "I bet _he's_ a _great_ cook, though." 

Heero smirked. "You'd think so... but he's actually totally useless in the kitchen. It comes from having a paid cook all his life. He lives off leftovers from the stuff that guy makes, and anything you can just throw in the microwave." As Duo laughed (reflecting that at least the microwave part of that description would probably apply to him someday as well), Heero went on. "And I do sometimes cook for him... but you caught us during March Madness, and you don't _cook_ for that." 

"Well, I seem to remember something about _me_ owing _you_ lunch every day for a year anyway," Duo said. 

Again Heero shrugged. "That doesn't mean I can't make you dinner." And this statement, Duo thought happily, totally made up for being unable to experience the delicious-looking sandwich. There was a lot about Heero, in fact, that made up for a lot of things. No one person could ever really erase eighty-seven years of tribulation, but Duo was starting to think those eighty-seven years might have been worth it when he'd gotten to meet Heero at the end of them. 

Today they were only nine minutes late back from lunch. They'd left about five minutes early (Duo thought; it was hard to tell the time from his angle), and the resulting fourteen or so minutes' lateness was much better than Monday and Tuesday had been. This was probably a good thing, since Duo was sure that even the best friend of whatever managerial position Quatre occupied could only go so long on that sort of sloppy schedule without some kind of trouble arising. 

And just after lunch, they had the most interesting encounter of all.


	50. Part 49

The first indication that Heero had another pointless visitor was the appearance in front of him of some sort of small torture device. It had a couple of curving lengths of thick wire like a pincer and a long shaft leading to a round piece, all painted a disconcertingly sterile white, and it was held right in Heero's face by Wufei Chang. The latter had been out working on a contract for the last week, or else Heero might have remembered him and recognized his danger. Now it was too late. 

Heero actually started back at the unexpected sight of whatever it was Wufei was shoving at him. Any normal person, seeing this reaction, would have withdrawn the object and possibly apologized for the abrupt entrance; but Wufei just pushed the white claw-thing closer and said, "I happened to have an extra." 

"What the hell is it?" It was never really a good idea to admit any sort of ignorance to Wufei, but Heero was startled. 

"It's a doll stand," replied Wufei patronizingly. 

"Oh, no..." Duo groaned. 

Although he hadn't originally planned on touching the thing, Heero now reached out quickly and took the purported doll stand from Wufei's hand. If he didn't, Wufei might (would probably) decide to implement the device himself, and Duo didn't seem to like that idea. Heero thought he understood; the stand creaked and shifted ominously in his grip, and nothing had occurred to diminish the impression that it had been designed as a means of torturing unsuspecting dolls and their friends. 

"I heard you had a Star Trek doll," Wufei went on, "so I went home at lunch to get you a stand for it." He was obviously trying for a tone that would imply this to be normal behavior and motivated by generosity, but Heero knew better. Wufei didn't do things like this because he was _nice_, but, rather, to show off his expertise: _he_ had an extra doll stand; _he_ had been into the doll scene _long_ before _Heero_ had. 

"He just assumed you didn't have one?" Duo wondered incredulously. 

Heero said, "Thank you." This was another dangerous thing to allow Wufei to hear, but Heero really couldn't think of anything else. He'd never been entirely solid on how to deal with Wufei. 

"Oh, you're certainly welcome," Wufei said, sounding pleased with himself. "I've had an extra ever since I sold my John Locke figure." He added unnecessarily, "I didn't like the direction the writers were taking with his character." 

Noncommittally, Heero nodded. 

"He didn't like _what_?" said Duo. 

"I wasn't aware that you were also a fan of Star Trek," Wufei went on. Heero was not at all pleased by the tone of still-slightly-condescending camaraderie. Wufei already had this strange idea that there was some kind of connection between him and Heero because they were both of Asian descent, and in fact had once puzzled over the spelling of Heero's name so assiduously that Heero had been forced to explain why his parents and grandparents had chosen such American-looking romanizations. Heero was _not_ eager to have something else in common with Wufei. 

As it was too late to deny the accusation, however -- given that Duo was actually wearing the uniform, and that for Heero to pass himself off as a Star Trek fan was supposedly the point -- he simply nodded again. 

"If I were to hazard a guess," Wufei said in what he probably thought was a shrewd tone, "I would say you are a _Voyager_ fan." 

"Yes," said Heero at once, thinking to avoid prolonging this conversation by agreeing (little hope as he really had of its working). 

"If he were to _hazard a guess_?" Duo demanded. "Heero, who _is_ this guy?" 

"Do you want to know how I knew?" asked Wufei. Then, not waiting for Heero to tell him that he didn't, he explained, "You've got him in a 2009 reboot uniform, and no real fan of the original series could ever tolerate that movie." 

Heero really, _really_ didn't care how Star Trek people felt about the various parts of their universe, but he still didn't quite see Wufei's logic. Weren't there a number of Star Trek series? How did his supposedly not being a 'real fan of the original series' mean that he must be a _Voyager_ fan? 

Duo also had a problem with Wufei's statement. "What?!" he yelped. "That was a _great_ movie! What the hell didn't he like about it?" 

It had been Heero's intention to ask Wufei if he was on the clock and, hopefully, get rid of him that way. Instead, to please Duo, he relayed the question. "What didn't you like about it?" 

Wufei scowled. "It derailed the entire Star Trek continuity! Everything was wrong! I mean, Vulcan being destroyed? It invalidates every part of the story that comes after that!" 

"It was an alternate reality!" Duo protested. "They specifically said that _in the movie_. Who does he think Leonard Nimoy was playing?" 

Heero struggled to remember what he could of the film, from the single time he'd seen it the previous year, in order to reword Duo's statement so that Wufei wouldn't bite his head off. "It was an alternate reality, though. That was why the other Spock showed up: he came from our world, where all the things in the original show and movies _did_ happen, and Vulcan _wasn't_ destroyed." He _thought_ that was right, anyway... God, had he really just said all of that? 

"But there's _already_ an alternate reality in the original series. We _know_ what the alternate reality is like." 

"Um, what...?" said Duo. "I think he needs to go look up the word 'alternate.'" 

"I think there can be multiple alternate realities," Heero suggested cautiously. 

Wufei fumed, "But there doesn't _need_ to be. There was a lot of material they could have worked with that would have allowed them to give the series a fresh look with new actors without screwing up the timeline and justifying it with 'oh, it's just time-travel; it didn't really happen.'" 

Duo started to say something, but Wufei overrode him as he added, "It just didn't fit with Gene Roddenberry's original vision." 

There was a moment of silence, and then Duo burst out laughing. "What, his original vision that _included time travel and alternate realities?_" 

Heero was trying to think of a non-combative way to say this when Wufei snorted and changed his focus. "And Spock was too emotional. He was _never_ that emotional in the original series." 

Dropping the third person and addressing his opponent directly, despite Wufei being unable to hear him, Duo said derisively, "What, you mean after he'd just lost his entire planet and his _mom_? How did you _expect_ him to react??" 

"He _had_ just lost his entire planet and his mother," was how Heero relayed this, in as reasonable a tone as he could command. He wondered, without wanting to look, if anyone else was around and listening. What on earth would they think? Well, he supposed, a discussion like this could only enhance the idea that he was a fan... 

"He went through plenty of trauma in the original series," Wufei insisted, "without ever displaying that much emotion." 

"Um, yeah, dumbass, but this movie was set _before_ the original series. People do _change_, you know." It was actually rather amusing how annoyed Duo was about this. Really, it shouldn't be surprising that he was such a geek about something that had formed such a big part of his life. 

"But the Spock in the movie was younger," Heero translated. "It was before he'd learned to be that much in control." 

"Stop being so polite, Heero!" Duo complained. "This guy's bugging the hell out of me." 

"His involvement with Uhura was totally out of character too." It didn't seem that any of Duo's proxy arguments had made any impact whatsoever on Wufei; the latter was simply working his way down a list of complaints and systematically discarding any disagreement. 

"Well, I agree that Spock has always been pretty damn gay for Kirk," Duo said in a milder tone, "but in that movie--" But Heero never got to hear what Duo thought of Spock's 2009 relationship with Uhura, for at that moment they were interrupted. 

"Wufei, are you on the clock?" Dorothy had a way of asking this particular question that made even people that _weren't_ abusing the timeclock check to see if there was something more productive they could be doing. 

Wufei, who lived in his own very serious little world, was largely immune to things that affected other people strongly, but even he could not completely ignore that tone. He cleared his throat. "Yes. I was just discussing something with Heero." 

"I noticed," said Dorothy dryly. "Back to work now?" 

Wufei nodded somberly, then subtly did the 'Live long and prosper' gesture at Heero before retreating from the cubicle. Once again Duo burst into startled laughter. 

"You should know better than to get him worked up about something like Star Trek at this time of day," Dorothy chided as she came fully into the cubicle. "Now he won't get anything done for the rest of the afternoon." 

Heero couldn't quite bring himself to apologize. 

Dorothy stopped just beside him, looking down at Duo with a faint frown and brows drawn slightly together, evidently more pensive than disapproving or even curious. "At least you didn't agree with him," she murmured. "So he probably won't try to sneak back in here and continue the discussion the moment my back is turned." 

Heero acknowledged this point with a nod. 

As she went to leave, Dorothy added in a thoughtful tone, "Spock really _was_ always pretty gay for Kirk, wasn't he..." 

The moment she was gone, Heero leaned his elbow on the desk, bent forward, and rested his face in his hand. Torn between amusement and horror, he didn't quite know what to say or do now, and he felt more than a little tired out. "I am never doing that again," he murmured. "No more three-way conversations." 

Duo chuckled a little. "Not into threesomes, huh? Especially ones that nerdy, I bet." 

Heero nodded against his hand, and grumbled darkly, "Wufei's probably going to think he's my best friend now. I hope you appreciate this..." 

It was remarkable how the seriousness of Duo's reply, "More than I can tell you," could do so much to make everything in the world tolerable again.


	51. Part 50

Quatre didn't know whether Trowa had somehow (perhaps magically) been aware of the exact instant he would arrive on Thursday afternoon, or if he'd been in the entry just at that moment by coincidence; but whatever the cause, the result was the same: immediately inside the door they were in each other's arms without any verbal intimation that this was the greeting they both had in mind. It had happened exactly like this yesterday too, right down to the almost palpable despair in Trowa's movements. Quatre still wasn't quite sure what to do about that. 

Trowa was thin -- _very_ thin -- bordering on what Quatre would have called _unhealthily_ thin. It shouldn't have been a surprise, given that Quatre _knew_ what his eating habits were, but he wasn't used to it yet; every time he was blessed with the opportunity to run his hands over Trowa's arms and chest and back (and sometimes farther down because he simply couldn't resist), he was startled all over again at how scrawny his new boyfriend was. 

It made him want to sit Trowa down to a three-course meal at least twice a day from now on until he bulked up a little. Since this urge, so far, had arisen almost exclusively while Quatre was _kissing_ Trowa, however, and was usually forgotten when some tentative experimental shift of Trowa's lips or the desperate clinging of Trowa's hands thoroughly apprehended Quatre's attention, he hadn't given it much thought at any moment when he might have made practical use of it. 

This particular kiss came abruptly to an end when the bag Quatre had completely forgotten he was holding slipped from his otherwise-occupied hand and the plastic box inside it let out a crunch as it hit the floor. He pulled away from Trowa and said, somewhat breathlessly, "Look how much you've distracted me." 

"I'm sorry," Trowa replied, and, though Quatre knew he was responding to the laughing comment in kind, there was just a little too much honesty in his tone. Probably better not to tell him how spacy Quatre had been at work over the last couple of days. 

Quatre released Trowa and bent to retrieve the bag. "Much as I'd love to keep doing that all day, we need to eat lunch." 

"Must we?" said Trowa. 

With a wide grin Quatre turned to face him, excessively pleased. "Trowa, I think you're flirting with me!" 

"I may be," Trowa replied with a reluctant smile. 

"You need to smile more," Quatre breathed, moving right up against Trowa again. Not wishing to spoil the expression in question, he kissed Trowa's jaw and cheek and temple instead -- but after only that, Trowa turned and caught Quatre's mouth once more with his. He was getting better at this. 

Eventually they did make it into the kitchen and to some sort of rational thought concerning lunch. This was a set of microwaveable components that combined to form what the box claimed was mushroom stroganoff, which made Quatre laugh. At Trowa's curious look he decided to share his nostalgia. 

"As a little kid," he began, a bit absently as he'd also begun reading the microwave instructions on the side of the box, "I'd gotten it into my head that I hated mushrooms more than anything in the world. I probably really didn't like them much, but you know how little kids are... they think any food they don't absolutely love is unbearably disgusting, usually after they've tried it exactly once." 

Trowa didn't much look like he knew 'how little kids are,' possibly because he hadn't been one in a hundred years and his interaction with humans had been at a bare minimum for almost as long. Maybe sometime (sometime when Trowa's ability to deal with people had improved a bit, that is) Quatre would introduce him to some of his nieces and nephews. 

For now Quatre just went on in amusement, "According to my family, I had such a strong aversion to mushrooms that I was actually _afraid_ of them. I don't remember it exactly like that, but that's what they tell me: I wouldn't touch mushrooms; I'd run away from mushrooms; if there were mushrooms on the table, I'd back my chair away and try to eat from a distance..." He mimed eating with his arms stretched out at full length. "I guess they found it pretty hilarious -- and I can't really blame them -- because I _do_ remember my sisters chasing me around with mushrooms. I think I ran more just because they were chasing me, though, than because they had mushrooms in their hands." 

By their hot edges, he pulled the flimsy plastic containers from the microwave with his fingertips, and began carefully peeling the already-punctured plastic cover from the sauce. "This smells good," he murmured. 

Then, to his surprise, he felt the warmth of Trowa against him, leaning in somewhat hesitantly to find out what he was talking about. "It does," Trowa said quietly. 

Abruptly Quatre turned, putting himself chest-to-chest with Trowa. "Mmm, so do you," he said, and buried his face in Trowa's shoulder and neck. There was a stiff button-up shirt collar in his way, and Quatre pulled it slightly aside to get at Trowa's skin. Admittedly much of what Quatre could smell at the moment was mushroom sauce, but there was still about Trowa that air of dusty leather and crumbling paper that was so intriguing to Quatre. 

At first Trowa stood absolutely still as Quatre nuzzled and then began mouthing the pale flesh of his neck, but his breathing did quicken, and eventually his arms lifted, slid slowly up Quatre's sides, and came to rest around his back just above his waist. "Now who's doing the distracting?" Trowa whispered, his breath stirring Quatre's hair. 

Laughing, Quatre withdrew and looked into Trowa's still-mostly-serious face. He gave him a quick, hard kiss before squirming around in his arms to face the kitchen counter again. "You're right," he said. "Our food's going to get cold before it's even put together." 

"I wasn't really complaining," Trowa murmured into his ear, making Quatre shiver. 

As Quatre began stirring up the noodles and the sauce in a couple of bowls, Trowa released him -- which was disappointing, but probably better for productivity -- and said, "Was there more of your mushroom story?" 

"Oh, yes!" Quatre had completely forgotten he'd even been telling a story. "Set the table," he ordered. "So I was afraid of mushrooms, apparently, and my sisters -- at least the youngest three or four -- thought this was really funny." He lifted the two bowls and circumnavigated the counter to bring them to the table. "And one day -- I don't know whose idea it was -- one day they decided to take this one step further than just chasing me around with mushrooms. So they went into the kitchen and made some muffins, and they chopped up some mushrooms and mixed them into the muffin dough." 

Trowa, who was now settling into his usual place at the table, raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

Quatre laughed. "Yes, I'm sure they _did_ have something better to do," he said, taking his own seat across from Trowa. "But apparently this was important. So they brought me a muffin and asked if I wanted a 'muffroom.' And I told them, no, I didn't want a mushroom. 'No, a _muff_room,' they said, and showed me the muffin." 

"And how old were you?" Trowa asked. 

Quatre grinned. "Um, six? Maybe five. I'm not sure." 

"And was this before or after they'd started conning you at cards?" 

"I think that started soon after this." Quatre's grin widened. "Hey, this is good," he added after taking his first bite of the stroganoff. 

"Your opinion on mushrooms has changed," Trowa observed. 

"Yes, it has," agreed Quatre, and took another bite with relish. When his mouth was free he continued his account. "So I had this 'muffroom,' and I was suspicious of it because of the name. But my sisters insisted that they were only calling it that because it was shaped something like a mushroom, and eventually they got me to eat it. And obviously I couldn't taste the mushroom in it -- either that or I just really didn't hate mushrooms as much as I thought I did -- because I ate the whole thing and thought it was pretty good. 

"And of course after I'd finished it my sisters told me -- gleefully, triumphantly told me -- what had been in it. I think at first I didn't want to believe them, and repeated what they'd said to me about it being called a 'muffroom' because of how it was shaped and all that... but eventually I just started screaming and crying. I was upset that I'd eaten mushrooms, of course, but I was even more upset that they'd tricked me." 

"I can't imagine you screaming and crying," said Trowa, fixing him with a thoughtful gaze. "Not even as a child." 

"Oh, really?" Quatre found himself rather pleased at this 

Trowa shook his head. "No. I can't imagine you as anything but a very well-behaved child who was always in control of himself." 

At this Quatre laughed heartily. "I'll show you some pictures sometime of just how well-behaved I was as a kid," he said. 

And to Quatre's great delight, Trowa smiled. 

When they'd finished their lunch/dinner, Quatre with solemn pride brought out the key lime cheesecake he'd bought on the way over. It had smashed somewhat against one side of its box when he'd dropped it earlier, but he doubted this would affect its flavor. Trowa looked at the dessert almost suspiciously, at which Quatre laughed. He opened it with faux ceremony and made a show of plunging a fork into it and taking the first bite. "_I_ have a Cheesecake Factory in _my_ town," he said complacently. 

As Trowa made no move to join him at this pursuit, Quatre forked another bite and, leaning forward, brought it insistently to Trowa's mouth. Though he still appeared more than a bit wary, Trowa submitted to this and allowed himself to be fed. Then Quatre sat back and watched him, waiting to see how he liked it. 

There was no marked change to Trowa's expression, but Quatre saw the twitches of his eyebrows -- first down, then up a little higher than they had been before -- because he was looking for them. _Mission accomplished_, he thought. 

"That..." Trowa said presently, slowly, "is _very_ good." 

Quatre beamed. He had a feeling he was going to be late back from lunch again, but he couldn't really bring himself to worry about it.


	52. Part 51

Heero was used to being a little restless at work on Fridays -- not that he showed it, but he liked his weekends. And today there was the added bonus of really wanting this week to end, since he was hoping that the fervor about Duo would die once everyone had had a Saturday and Sunday to calm down and perhaps forget. So it was no surprise that he was a little more impatient even than usual with anyone that approached him for anything less than a perfectly businesslike reason. 

"I think you made that one cry," Duo remarked, and not in a terribly accusatory tone, as someone from HR that had only had the very flimsiest excuse left in something of a hurry. 

Heero stood halfway out of his chair, looking after the woman. He certainly didn't enjoy the undue attention he and Duo were receiving, but making people cry was not something he wanted to do. From here, however, it was impossible to tell whether or not he had. 

Evidently seeing the concern on his face and guessing at its cause, Duo hastily reassured him, "I was exaggerating. I don't think she was really crying." 

With a nod, resolving to try for greater patience with his next visitor just in case, Heero resumed his seat. And as he did so, he caught sight of the doll stand Wufei had brought him on Wednesday. Heero had pulled its three pieces apart and tossed them aside after Wufei had gone, and after that entirely lost track of it. Now he reached around the computer monitor to retrieve each of the parts, and started fitting them back together contemplatively. 

"Oh, no," Duo said. "I hoped you'd forgotten about that." 

"I did," Heero murmured, "until I saw it just now." 

"Please don't put me in that thing," Duo begged. 

Heero shook his head, trying to figure out how the last piece went on. 

"Please?" reiterated Duo. When Heero still didn't answer, Duo continued in a sort of chant, "Please? Please? Please? Please? Safe word?" 

His full attention most definitely procured by this, Heero was startled into a laugh. "It's so strange what you know about and what you don't," he told the doll. 

"Yeah, I know," replied Duo somewhat bitterly. 

"You don't know what IT people are," Heero went on, setting the doll stand aside and giving Duo his full attention, "but you know about safe words..." 

"Yeah, it's stupid," Duo admitted. "I've just picked up random things from various people and TV shows, and I don't know a lot of stuff a normal person would." 

"_How_ do you know about safe words?" persisted Heero. "Or would I rather not know?" 

"Weeeelllll... it hasn't _all_ been kids..." Duo's tone was somewhere between 'shrug' and 'grimace' with a touch of sheepishness thrown in, and the fact that he wasn't using this topic as a springboard for flirtation indicated -- to Heero, at least -- that he took it _very_ seriously. 

"I can see I _would_ rather not know," Heero said lightly, not wanting to make Duo uncomfortable. And then he tried to return to his work and not think about everything that conversation had just dredged up in the back of his head. 

Heero had never done anything that required a safe word, and knew little more about that kind of play than what was supposedly common knowledge. He was aware that there could be ropes or handcuffs involved, and spanking or whipping or something like that... that it was supposed to be about trust, and one person submitting to the control of another... 

Duo had been so absolutely under the control of others for so long, with no recourse for decent treatment beyond begging, having mental discomfort and embarrassment forced on him... Even now that he'd found his old friend again and was on his way to having the curse broken, he was still _completely_ at Heero's mercy... Heero doubted very much that deliberately putting himself in the role of the victim (or whatever it was called in that context) was something that would at all appeal to Duo. 

The other way around, however... 

No, Heero did _not_ need to be thinking about that. He was at work, and his face was clearly visible to Duo, and he probably shouldn't be fantasizing about someone else's boyfriend in the first place. And yet it was proving quite a daunting task to escape from the mental image of Duo -- the hypothetical human Duo in Heero's imagination, with his smooth tanned skin and his strong hands -- tying Heero up, blindfolding him, making it _Heero's_ turn to beg, and-- 

"Konnichiwa, Heero-san." 

He wasn't sure whether he was more irritated or grateful at this. He'd been afraid Wufei might start coming over here to talk to him more frequently now that they'd inadvertently bonded over Star Trek, but at the same time couldn't really think of a better buzz-kill than the somewhat creepy tone of Wufei's formal greeting -- and a buzz-kill was exactly what he'd needed just now. 

Heero swiveled to face him. "Hello," he said. For some reason, his eyes locked onto and could not tear themselves from Wufei's tie, which had a vaguely familiar pink heart in the midst of some kind of machiney grey stuff and actually didn't look too bad against his dark red-grey shirt. 

"And how is your first officer today?" Wufei stepped up and reached for Duo before Heero could stop him. To Heero's dismay, Wufei's other hand went for the doll stand at the same time, and Heero could not think of a damn thing to say to prevent the union of the two objects. Wufei filled the silence, however. "Who is he supposed to be?" He added with absolute certainty, "He isn't an original series character, or anyone from that awful movie." 

"He's a..." Heero scrambled for a plausible answer, and perhaps it was what he'd just been thinking about before Wufei's appearance that supplied his eventual, "...role-play character." 

Wufei set the newly-ensconced Duo back down on the desk and turned eager, calculating eyes on Heero. "I was not aware that you role-played." 

"I... yeah, sometimes," said Heero weakly. 

"My group--" Wufei began. 

Hastily Heero interrupted him. "I think Dorothy is coming over here. You'd better get back to your desk." 

Wufei looked around with a frown, then nodded. "You're right. We can discuss this later." 

_Not if I can help it_, Heero reflected as he watched Wufei's surreptitious departure. 

Somebody else approached Heero at that moment looking for information, and throughout this encounter Duo said nothing. But the instant this second co-worker was out of the way, Heero turned to the sound of a pathetic noise from Duo and pulled the doll out of the stand. 

"Thank you," Duo said intensely as Heero replaced him in his previous seated position beside the monitor. 

Heero nodded, and began dismantling the stand again. 

Duo sighed. "I'm starting to lose track of who's picked me up and who hasn't." 

"I'm sorry," replied Heero. "I try to keep them from doing it." 

In a head-shaking sort of tone, Duo said, "Not your fault," and sighed again. 

"Only twenty-four more days..." 

"Hey, that's only a little more than three weeks!" And Duo sounded a little more hopeful. 

Again Heero nodded. Then he opened one of his desk drawers and pulled aside its contents, looking for a place to hide the pieces of the doll stand. "I know this thing is terrifying," he said as he did so, "but what is it that bugs you about it?" 

Now Duo snorted. "Oh, just that I spent three years in one of those as a decoration in somebody's guest room -- which _never got used_ \-- with nobody to talk to and no TV or anything." 

"Oh," said Heero softly. Inwardly he was swearing fanatically that Duo would never have to occupy a doll stand ever again if he had the slightest say in the matter. 

"Just staring at the horrible picture above the bed across the room..." Duo murmured in a tone that was the emotional polar opposite of nostalgic, "standing there with some nice-looking books nobody ever read on one side and a Happy Holiday Barbie on the other... listening to the world keep moving outside... going crazy..." 

"Wow," Heero breathed. As often happened when Duo spoke of his experiences as a doll over the years, Heero was overcome with an almost physical sensation of pity and horror, and he just wished there was something more he could do to make things right for Duo. 

Abruptly Duo shook his head, as if to shake the memories away. Cheerfully -- too cheerfully, Heero thought, especially all of a sudden like this -- he repeated Heero's earlier words: "Only twenty-four more days!"


	53. Part 52

Just as he'd become accustomed in an insanely short period of time to eating lunch with Quatre every day, Trowa was now quickly getting used to Quatre showing up every night after work. This meant he had dual distractions from his own work as he found himself caught between the neverending cycle of guilt facilitated by the artifact in his study and the unfamiliar, warm feeling of pleasure and anticipation regarding Quatre and when he would next appear. 

It didn't help that the latter made the former so much worse. A voice in his head kept asking, _Should you really be doing this? Leaving Heero with all the real work for Duo while you enjoy yourself with someone you will never deserve? Someone whose entire life you might destroy at any time?_ For this he had no real answer, but he couldn't dismiss it or ignore it during the long hours he spent alone in his house attempting to take notes or do research. Only Quatre's actual appearance pushed such thoughts farther back into the darkness and let him rest a little for a while. 

He'd fallen asleep in his chair again when Quatre showed up at about nine o'clock on Friday night, and was awakened when his new paramour climbed into his lap and made himself comfortable. "Hi," Quatre said when he noticed Trowa had awakened. 

"Hello," Trowa replied, lifting his arms to wrap around and hold Quatre. 

Quatre kissed him briefly and beautifully, then laid his head on Trowa's shoulder and sighed. "Meetings all afternoon, and all I can think about is you..." 

That wasn't right. Inevitably temporary involvement with someone like Trowa shouldn't be distracting Quatre from his real life... no matter how much, against his will, Trowa adored the thought that Quatre had been dwelling on him since they'd seen each other earlier. 

Abruptly Quatre sat up and fixed Trowa with a stern look. "You just made that noise again." 

"What noise?" 

"You do that sometimes about things I say... and then you get this look..." Quatre appeared decidedly unhappy all of a sudden. "Trowa, what is it about this that's bothering you? Is there something I'm doing that you don't like? Because you seem like you want to push me away." 

Trowa didn't know what to say. How could he tell Quatre that he was like a drug... that he rendered everything colorful and sensitized when he was around, that he made Trowa feel _wonderful_... but that the moment he was gone, everything was even more bleak than before he'd come? That the better a time Trowa had with Quatre, the worse he felt when it was over? That having experienced this high only increased Trowa's guilt and self-loathing once he came down? 

"I don't... I shouldn't..." He took a deep breath and tried to regulate his thoughts and channel them properly for once. Quatre had asked, and he deserved an answer -- at least deserved to know that it was nothing about him personally that Trowa was trying to push away. "I love having you around," Trowa finally managed. "It makes me... happier... than I have been... in a long time. But that doesn't feel right, when Duo is still suffering and--" 

Quatre broke in with a frustrated noise of his own, shifting all at once so that he was straddling Trowa's lap, his legs pressed hard into the arms of the chair on either side, and looking him directly in the eye. He took Trowa's face firmly in his hands and said, "Trowa. You need to get over this thing you have about Duo. This is not about Duo. Duo has nothing to do with this." 

"I know you want me to... forgive myself..." Trowa replied, "but it's not that easy..." 

"It's not even that," Quatre sighed. "Just stop thinking of yourself in terms of what you did to Duo eighty-seven years ago. Yes, you hurt him; yes, he's still suffering. But that doesn't mean _you_ don't deserve to have _any_ good experiences _ever_ again. Even if you do buy into the whole karma thing and believe that you have to be punished for your mistake, don't you think you've suffered enough?" 

Grey-blue eyes held a pair of crescent moons in an unbreakable lock of gazes as Quatre ranted on. "You don't have to keep pushing good things away because you think you don't deserve them. You're allowed to enjoy food and sleep and -- and _me_ \-- without beating yourself up over whether or not you're stepping outside some arbitrary boundary set by some mistake you once made." 

Quatre released him, and Trowa felt his eyes sink closed as his head bent forward; Quatre met Trowa's brow with his lips as Trowa said softly, "Whatever I deserve, I'm sure it's not you." 

A sad-sounding little laugh vibrated against Trowa's skin. "What on earth are you thinking about me?" Quatre murmured. "Do you think I'm some kind of valuable prize that should have gone to a better winner?" 

"Something like that," Trowa admitted. 

Quatre laughed again, ruefully. "Well, I'm flattered. But seriously, I'm just a normal person like everyone else." He turned his face so that his cheek rested against Trowa's forehead. "I am absolutely nothing special, and nothing you should feel like you 'don't deserve.'" 

"You're something special to me," Trowa murmured. He still couldn't quite find words for the full effect Quatre had on him, but he could at least try to articulate the more straightforward parts of it. "You've made me... see the world again... even if I'm not ready for it... I'm more alive now than I have been for decades." _And even when you leave,_ he didn't add aloud, _I'll still be alive because of you._

"I'm glad," said Quatre quietly. "I want you to be happy. I want to _make_ you happy. Can you accept that? As something I want, maybe, instead of something you think you don't deserve?" 

"I can try," Trowa murmured. 

"Thank you," said Quatre. And he drew back, took Trowa's face in his hands again, and kissed him. 

It was very much like their first kiss had been: Quatre's hands sliding down to Trowa's neck, thumbs pressing upward to lift his chin; Quatre seeming a trifle unsure of how willing he would find Trowa, but in no way uncertain about what he wanted himself; Trowa with no real idea how best to respond, but knowing equally well that, if he could have, he would have made this last forever. His hands ran up and down Quatre's warm back, the latter slightly curved as Quatre, kneeling in the chair, had to bend a little to reach Trowa's mouth; and Quatre's hands crumpled and worried the collar of his shirt. 

It was good... it was all _so_ good, in fact, that the dark voice in the back of Trowa's head started muttering grimly about how painful things were going to be later when Quatre had gone, when the guilt came crashing down again and the feelings of inadequacy Quatre had been preaching against returned from their shadowy corners to remind Trowa of what he was and what he had done. 

Feeling the strength of Quatre against him, however, Trowa was conscious of a simultaneous steeling of resolve in those same shadowy corners of his mind. Quatre wanted him to be happy... Quatre wanted him not to feel undeserving. And Trowa had promised to try. Tonight, at least, he would not go down without a fight.


	54. Part 53

  


On occasion over the last few days, Quatre had gotten the feeling that Trowa was as taken by the novelty of having someone paying him this sort of attention as by Quatre himself -- that Trowa was charmed perhaps more by the concept of someone being interested in him for the first time in god knew how long than by Quatre specifically. Quatre couldn't possibly be pleased by this, but he had to admit that it made a certain sense: Trowa had been waiting so long for someone to love, since the disaster of his last attempt, that _anyone_ willing to make the effort might have sufficed, at least at first -- and he couldn't be blamed for that. 

But now, Quatre felt, Trowa's focus was entirely and intensely on _him_, on _Quatre Winner_, not simply on the person that had forced his way into Trowa's life. He wasn't sure how he knew this was the case, but it was an understanding he would not deny. Bright eyes met his with purpose, and there was a different sense, somehow, to the usual desperation of Trowa's movements. Trowa wanted him here now, and nobody else would do. It was an intoxicating feeling. 

Quatre kissed him harder and deeper, pushing forward in the chair to bring them into closer contact. Trowa felt so good beneath him, wiry and warm; and his desperate lips and tongue were so precisely what Quatre liked... He had said that he wanted to make Trowa happy, and he'd meant it... at the moment, he wanted to make him very happy in a very specific way. Trowa had said that Quatre had brought him to life... well, how about a little more of that? 

His hands were already unbuttoning Trowa's shirt before he even finished this train of thought, and he'd begun actively grinding against him where his legs were splayed out around him. He could feel the cushion shifting beneath them as he moved, and he could feel Trowa going stiff. He wondered if Trowa was aware that his roving hands had come to rest cupping Quatre's buttocks. 

"Quatre...!" Trowa gasped as Quatre broke away from his mouth, and there was a look of blended desire and near-panic in his uncanny eyes. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Quatre whispered. 

"No!" said Trowa immediately. As once before at this word (if not precisely this tone), Quatre wasn't entirely sure he believed him. He wondered how long it had been since Trowa had done anything like this. To be honest, he wouldn't be surprised if he _never_ had. 

At Quatre's hesitance, Trowa lowered his brows slightly and very deliberately kissed him again. The message was clear, and it sent something white-hot running through Quatre's chest and down through his stomach and abdomen into his groin. All reluctance burned away, Quatre felt his hands slip into the open shirt and caress his lover's chest even as he again pulled away from Trowa's lips and let his own crawl along Trowa's jaw to his ear and down his neck. 

They were positioned awkwardly, but Quatre had no desire whatsoever to let go of the heat that was building up in an attempt to find a better place to do this. Trowa was breathing somewhat heavily in his ear as Quatre bared one of his shoulders and a pallid path for a trailing tongue to follow. Meanwhile his other hand teased briefly at a hard nipple before creeping downward. Trowa's hands were still clamped on Quatre's buttocks; Quatre would have preferred them moving like his own, but that didn't mean he wasn't fairly happy with them where they were. 

Because Trowa had legs that went on forever, which Quatre had already had occasion to admire, Quatre was quite familiar with the slacks Trowa usually wore. It was no difficult or lengthy task to get the button unfastened and attack the zipper, and then his left hand was buried in the heat of underwear and curling hair, seeking out the semi-erect penis he was dying to get at. Trowa let out a little groaning cry as Quatre found it, clutching at him even more tightly. In complacence Quatre sighed against Trowa's shoulder as his fingers closed around the silky, hot, sensitive flesh and began to explore. 

It wasn't long before Trowa was fully erect in Quatre's hand, leaking in his readiness, and moaning with every other breath. The rest of his body was likewise stiff and still, allowing Quatre to do whatever he wanted, and Quatre got the feeling that, as with kissing, Trowa hadn't the faintest idea what he should be doing. So, with his free hand, Quatre worked at his own belt and then the fastening of his pants, and eventually freed his own hard length to increase the heat between them. 

He had rather hoped Trowa would take some initiative at this point, but evidently the magician was paralyzed either by the weight of his own inexperience or the pleasure Quatre was giving him (or perhaps both). So instead, Quatre angled his hips better so that their erections were more easily parallel -- as much as they could be with the straightness of Trowa's next to the upward curve of Quatre's -- and widened his grip to encompass both of them together. His own breaths had been fairly quick for some time, but now as he touched himself alongside Trowa they started to come in gasps. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes, and felt Trowa's face come to rest against his exposed neck. 

Trowa was getting closer and closer; Quatre could feel it. He would like to come with him, unlikely as he thought that was, and so, to bring himself faster, concentrated on the feeling of Trowa's mouth working slowly against his neck, giving out incoherent sounds of pleasure in warm wet breaths on Quatre's skin; the clutching of Trowa's long hands at his buttocks, tense and hard, trying to pull him closer, his need of Quatre very evident; the smell of sweat and dust and sex between them. 

Then, with a long, ecstatic breath that ended in a faint, helpless moan, Trowa found his release, coming onto his own stomach and Quatre's hand. The latter thus slickened made even quicker progress toward bringing Quatre to orgasm, and Trowa groaned with each stroke that teased his softening member before Quatre also came with a little cry of pleasure. 

Relaxing in the chair, his head falling into the corner between the back and one of its wings, Trowa breathed out Quatre's name for no apparent purpose. Quatre, still holding their spent penises in one hand, ran the other down Trowa's upturned jaw and then followed it slowly with his mouth. Then he let his own head rest against Trowa's shoulder again, and neither of them said anything for some time; their gasping breaths calmed and their heart-rates slowed and their bodies cooled, and Quatre thought they were both quite content. 

Finally he sat up straight again, slowly, and looked around. Behind him on the table, just within reach if he stretched, was the box of Kleenex he'd brought over here back when (it seemed forever ago, now) Trowa had shed tears over the realization of how to break the curse. He snagged a tissue with his free hand and set about cleaning them up. 

The cushion had come about a third of the way out from where Quatre's knees had been forcing it away from the back of the chair, and as a consequence Trowa had slumped down somewhat in his seat. Reluctant as he was to move, Quatre eventually had to stand and pull Trowa up after him in order to fix this. He refastened both their pants while he was at it, then pushed Trowa back into the chair and settled again on his lap -- in his original position now, sitting almost beside rather than on top of him with his legs draped over Trowa's. He wrapped his arms around Trowa -- a gesture that was immediately reciprocated -- laid his head once more on Trowa's shoulder, and let out another pleased breath. 

After a long, comfortable silence, Trowa murmured, "It's been... a long time... since..." 

Quatre raised his face and kissed the first piece of flesh available, which turned out to be the corner of Trowa's jaw. "I hope you enjoyed it," he said. 

"Yes," said Trowa. "I didn't think I would, but I did." 

Stifling a sigh, Quatre wondered, "Dare I ask why you didn't think you'd enjoy it?" 

"You probably won't want to hear it," admitted Trowa. 

"Well, tell me anyway, and then maybe once you've said it you can put it behind you." 

"I stopped... touching myself... not long after the curse. I didn't feel like I deserved to feel pleasure. And especially once I realized how I felt about Duo... that particular kind of pleasure seemed especially inappropriate, when it was... something I might have shared with him if I hadn't done what I'd done... and when what I'd done had taken away his ability to feel anything like that, as far as I knew, forever." 

Yes, Quatre still had his doubts about Trowa's assertion that he was no longer in love with Duo... but, as Trowa was cuddling _Quatre_ in an armchair at the moment, had told _Quatre_ that he was willing to try to overcome his old guilt and build a happy relationship, Quatre didn't feel it wise or kind to express his jealousy. So he nodded slowly. "I guess that makes sense." 

"So I thought that... you doing something like that to me..." Trowa went on, still in that broken, hesitant way that indicated he was having a hard time finding words for what he wanted to say, "I thought it would feel... wrong. But it didn't." 

"Good," said Quatre, and nuzzled his face into Trowa's collarbone, and then repeated more quietly, almost in a whisper, "Good."


	55. Part 54

  


Heero awoke at a positively _insane_ hour of the morning to, of all things, the sound of Trowa's voice in his bedroom. That probably explained why he'd been dreaming of fighting Trowa, though not necessarily why they'd been wearing more tattoos than clothing and using spears. Now he sat up groggily, glaring at the clock until the numbers (and there were _far_ too many sevens involved) came into focus, and said, "What the hell are you doing in here?" 

"Poor grumpy Heero is rude," said Duo cheerfully. 

"Pardon me," was Trowa's stiff answer. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll go." He'd been standing by the nightstand, undoubtedly having sneaked in here for a quiet conversation with Duo while Heero couldn't hear them -- only they'd gotten too loud -- and now he turned toward the door. 

Heero took a deep breath. He shouldn't even be awake at this time on a Saturday, let alone having to deal with this kind of thing. But he tried to beat back his irritation and jealousy, and said, "No, don't go. Finish your conversation." And he returned to his previous position, putting his back to the other two so he wouldn't have to look at them, and pulled the blanket up to his face. 

"Isn't he sweet?" Duo grinned. "OK, Trois, so, then this guy says, 'And how is your first officer today?'" Duo's imitation of Wufei's inflection was spot-on. 

"No, I'm going to go," said Trowa firmly. "Heero, I am sorry I woke you up." 

Heero just grunted. 

"Aww," said Duo a moment later. "I didn't get to finish telling him." Concurrent with this remark, Heero heard the sound of Trowa's door opening and closing out in the living room. Then, after a few moments of silence, Duo said quietly, "I wonder what's going on with him..." 

Turning again, Heero propped himself up on an elbow and looked at Duo where he sat on the nightstand behind the clock. He knew he probably didn't really want to know, but he asked anyway. "What do you mean?" 

Duo sounded very thoughtful as he answered, "He seemed really... agitated. But not in a bad way. Almost I'd say... well, except... I don't know. He didn't tell me anything that would explain it. He said he's writing a book, but that's nothing special..." 

Reflecting that he'd been right -- he really _hadn't_ wanted to hear all of that -- Heero settled back down into bed again. "Well," he forced himself to say, "you _do_ only have three weeks of your curse left. That seems like a good reason to be happy." 

"But he was so different from just the last time I saw him on... I think it was Tuesday morning," Duo mused. "I wonder what's happened... and why he didn't tell me..." 

As Heero made no reply, Duo said nothing more, and Heero closed his eyes and relaxed for several minutes. He found, however, that the exchange had been enough to wake him beyond the point of no return. This was past the time he got up on weekdays, after all... dammit... He sat up and flung the blanket off of him in an abrupt, irritated movement. 

"Whoa!" Duo exclaimed. "You startled the hell out of me!" 

Heero rose and, seizing the doll without a word, stalked out to the kitchen. 

Duo recovered quickly. "So, tennis today, huh?" 

"Yes," Heero said shortly. 

"Do you want to know how I knew?" Again Duo imitated Wufei particularly well. 

A little cheered, Heero replied, "Sure." 

"Apparently Quatre invited Trowa to come along," Duo explained. "Not like there's even the smallest chance he would, but I think he was happy about the invitation." 

Busying himself with coffee, Heero said nothing. 

"Sooo..... Oz today?" Duo sounded hopeful as he partially repeated his previous statement. 

This seemed like an excellent idea to Heero -- and definitely one less likely to make him jealous than Duo talking about Trowa all day. "Yes," he said. "Right after breakfast." 

Tennis was at two, and eventually Heero reached the point where he couldn't put off deciding what to wear any longer. This was something that had plagued him in the past, since the athletic club all the others belonged to had certain unspoken dress standards even on the courts; though Heero was not about to wear the type of $250 designer shorts his friends did, he also didn't want to make them look bad. So, rather painstakingly, he'd built up for these occasions a small collection of pieces that were both functional and relatively smart but hadn't cost him an arm and a leg... but this time he had to accommodate Duo somehow, and cargo pants obviously weren't going to work. 

After much thought, he chose the one polo that had a breast pocket, and picked at the lower seams of the latter with a fork until there was a sizeable hole. Tests confirmed that Duo's legs would fit through this so he could sit fairly securely in the pocket, but Heero wasn't entirely confident; trying to ignore Duo's fits of laughter at all of these proceedings, he went looking for a safety pin. When it turned out that his apartment was a completely safety-pin-free zone, he determined to leave early and stop somewhere on the way to get one. 

Duo was in quite a good mood today, apparently, and was whistling as Heero drove. Heero liked to see him so happy, and tried not to think about the likelihood of its being due to Trowa's appearance this morning. And the visit to the convenience store only improved Duo's mood when the cashier that rang up Heero's safety pins, catching sight of the doll riding in the pocket of his slacks, gave him a very strange look. 

A membership at the Glazebrook West Athletic Club was nothing Heero had any interest in, despite the club's growing reputation as a predominantly gay organization. Having three friends with memberships and guest passes was enough for regular tennis matches, and a YMCA was sufficient the rest of the time. This did mean, however, that Heero had to wait around in the parking lot for one of his friends to show up and get him in. 

The sight of a familiar sky-blue Z4, its passengers evidently already having gone inside, indicated that it was Quatre he was waiting for this time, and Heero was somewhat surprised not to find his friend there before him. He turned his car off, rolled down his window, sat back, and explained to Duo what was going on. 

"Not like Quatre to be late, is it?" Duo remarked. 

Heero shook his head. 

He'd seen little of Quatre over the last few days, and each time he had run into him, his friend had seemed very preoccupied; still, Heero doubted that Quatre had been hit with any kind of last-minute conflict to prevent his playing today -- not only because Quatre would have called by now, but also because he'd made that odd invitation to Trowa. 

About that Heero had to wonder, despite not really wanting to think more about Trowa than necessary. Had Quatre suggested Trowa magically pop into their tennis court, or did he have guest pass plans for him? Heero knew Quatre had been trying to pull Trowa out of reclusion somewhat; he didn't know how successful that venture had been so far, but, based on what Duo had said this morning, Trowa wasn't really ready for this kind of social interaction just yet. 

But what if Trowa _did_ magically pop into their tennis court? Jealousy or no jealousy, that thought was rather entertaining. 

Quatre turned out to be only a few minutes late after all. When Heero saw him pulling into the next spot, he closed his window and gathered up Duo and his gym bag. 

"Hi, guys!" Quatre greeted them cheerfully, hefting his own much nicer bag and locking up his car. 

"Hi, Quatre!" Duo waved. 

Quatre's smiling gaze rose from Duo to Heero's face, where it turned thoughtful. "How are you going to manage this?" he asked. 

Before Heero could say anything, Duo answered for him almost smugly: "A specially-modified Duo-carrying shirt." 

"I can't wait to see it," Quatre grinned. Then he gave Heero another thoughtful look as they fell into step toward the entrance. 

Heero could tell that Quatre was doing his absolute best... but evidently the sight of him in the changing room tucking Duo into his pocket, then pinning the back of Duo's little uniform to his polo, was too much for Quatre; he turned away, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming in audible gasps. 

"It's OK, Quatre," Duo condescended. "You can go ahead and laugh." 

"He doesn't have _my_ permission to laugh," said Heero as he dug out his tennis racquet. "He has to get it OK'd by _both_ of us." 

"Aww, Heero!" Duo exulted. "Are we making decisions together now?" 

For once Heero was glad of Duo's physical insensibility; otherwise, having him so close to his heart might have been something of a problem. 

Quatre opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and shook his head minutely, a hugely amused expression still on his face. When he did eventually speak, all he said was, "Ready?" 

Heero nodded. As they left the changing rooms and headed for the tennis courts, Heero steeled himself. People that frequented high-end clubs were often a little eccentric, but what they would make of someone with a Star Trek doll in his pocket he did not like to think. He wasn't about to try to hide Duo, however; Duo had already had enough of that. 

Thankfully, the number of double-takes he occasioned on the way out was minimal, but the real test was yet to come. For soon they were walking through the meticulously-cultivated shrubbery that surrounded the various outdoor sporting areas, and approaching the court where Zechs and Treize awaited them.


	56. Part 55

  


Duo was done with jealousy mostly. Regular, human humans could eat, drink, breathe, sleep, smell, walk, and fuck, and Duo had spent more than enough time being jealous of it. He'd eventually decided he was simply done with the emotion. 

However, seeing so handsome a man with as much hair as he'd had -- proportionally speaking, as much hair as he _still_ had -- was enough to make him feel a little green. He missed the weight and sensation of his own hair, missed washing it and brushing it and braiding it, if not exactly _more_ than the other physicalities he lacked at least _more precisely_ than many of them. And this friend of Heero's, this stunning, shining platinum blonde, was certain not to appreciate these privileges as well as he should. 

Of course, with the way the two interacted, Duo guessed that plenty of appropriate appreciation came from the other, also excessively handsome man -- the one whose eyebrows looked a little like those of that witchy Dorothy manager woman at Heero's work -- and not just appropriate appreciation of the hair alone. Both men appeared to be in their late thirties, and very, pointedly splendid in their matching tennis outfits. 

"There you two are," said the first as Heero and Quatre let themselves into the chain-link enclosure. 

Quickly though Heero turned aside to move around the net and reach for a ball that already lay on the ground there, the others obviously caught sight of Duo anyway. The improbable blonde had evidently been about to say something else, but instead -- and Duo could only tell by turning his head hard left -- threw a confused frown in Quatre's direction. Though Quatre was outside of his field of vision, Duo guessed there followed some sort of emphatic _Don't ask_ gesture; for with fabulous aplomb, the man went on smoothly, perhaps with what he'd originally been intending to say. "How are you two doing?" 

"We're great," Quatre replied immediately. "How are you guys?" Heero was by now bouncing a ball on his racquet and facing the net, so Duo could see Quatre moving to a corresponding position on the other side. 

"Answering for both of you now, are you, Quatre?" asked the one with the eyebrows in a warm, cultured voice. "Does that mean you two are finally dating?" 

"No." Heero spoke a good deal more lightly than Duo had been expecting. "But he does usually know how I'm doing." And he served. 

The conversation continued in a somewhat broken fashion as Heero and Quatre warmed up. Evidently last month's tennis had been canceled, so these four hadn't met in quite some time (which, Duo guessed, was the primary reason Heero hadn't put off today's get-together until some time when he _didn't_ have a doll grinning out of his polo pocket). The others wanted to know about various random aspects of the lives of Heero and Quatre, including a lot of boring business stuff, gossip about people whose names Duo didn't recognize, and whether Heero was still driving the same ancient car. 

They also had plenty to tell about their own doings, including some even more boring, largely financial business talk, more gossip about people Duo didn't know, and accounts of recent luxurious indulgences that -- even to Duo, whose concept of the current value of money was rather unclear -- marked them as wealthier than anyone should really be allowed to be. He'd always vaguely understood that dentistry was a lucrative field, and this seemed to bear out that understanding, whatever they had to say about the flat economy. 

And periodically, they would look at Duo. Duo could tell whenever this happened because a flicker of curious confusion would cross their faces like some sort of brief system malfunction in an otherwise very urbane program. They were obviously dying to know what was going on there, but complying for the moment with Quatre's unspoken edict. 

When a real game started -- Duo's friends on one side and the dazzlers on the other -- things got more interesting. For one thing, Quatre either wasn't very good at tennis or was _way_ off his game today. And the other two guys kept congratulating each other every time something went their way because of this, which quickly became rather insufferable but did at least reveal their names: the improbable blonde was called 'Mill,' apparently, while the one with the eyebrows was 'Treize.' What kind of names these were Duo didn't know... but, then, he'd never met anyone else named 'Duo,' either. 

Positively the most engrossing thing about this tennis match, however, was being so close against Heero as the latter exerted himself, grew hot and sweaty, and breathed hard. Of course Duo could not actually _feel_ any of this, but he was appreciating the hell out of the awareness of it while he had the chance. Beyond that, he thought there might be a market for chest-mounted sportscasting cameras; the game was far more interesting from this angle. Though that might just have been the aforementioned proximity to Heero, and you couldn't really market _that_... 

The two teams were nicely matched today, it seemed: this side handicapped by whatever was wrong with Quatre (though, for all Duo knew, he always played this badly), the others by their debilitating curiosity about Duo that kept their eyes lingering on him longer than they really should have been if they wanted to watch the ball. Only Heero was really on top of defense, but he couldn't be everywhere, which meant that a lot of points were scored on both sides simply because nobody was able to prevent it. 

They played two games, both of which Heero won, and declined by general agreement to play a third. Then all four of them headed at a leisurely pace back toward the building. 

"Well," said the one with the eyebrows as they walked, gesturing at the chest of Heero, who was at his side, "I don't know how sportsmanlike this is, but it seems to be an effective strategy." 

"Maybe we should try it in the future," put in the improbable blonde. 

Duo couldn't quite tell from here, but he thought Heero was actually smiling a bit as he replied, "I would be interested in seeing that." 

The one with the eyebrows laughed softly. "I can only imagine what everyone else would think. They'd probably take us for some exclusive clique." 

"'The Dolls-on-Chest Society,'" suggested the improbable blonde. "'The Docs' for short." 

"Except that you and I are already 'Docs.'" Eyebrowface's tone was somewhat self-congratulatory at this. 

Blondie indulged in their status right along with him. "We are indeed!" 

"That reminds me," Heero put in, probably hoping to change the subject and avoid ever having to explain Duo. "My sister's looking for a new dentist -- something about a crown or something. Treize, do you have a business card with you? Or can you just write down your office number so I can give it to her?" 

"Of course I have business cards here; this place is my best advertising. I think almost all the members of this club are my patients." 

"I've fallen behind you there," lamented the improbable blonde with a touch of drama to his tone. "_I've_ only treated a few of them." 

"Not everyone needs braces, my dear," replied the one with the eyebrows. "You know your percentages are much higher than mine at the local schools." 

"You make me sound like a pedophile." 

"I consider very little beyond you." 

"Oh, unfair!" 

Duo was laughing openly at this exchange. "I think these are the gayest guys I've ever met," he remarked. 

Heero gave a snorting laugh, and this pulled the others' attention back onto him. "So is this a good luck charm or something?" asked the improbable blonde, gesturing in his turn to Duo. 

The one with the eyebrows added before Heero could answer, "Or maybe he thinks it's a boy magnet." 

"It certainly worked on Quatre, in that case--" the improbable blonde laid a hand on Quatre's shoulder and gave him a teasing shake-- "given that he ran right into him at least twice." 

"Oh, but Heero doesn't _need_ a magnet to attract Quatre, does he?" said the one with the eyebrows. 

"You guys are impossible," laughed Quatre. 

By now they'd reached the changing rooms, and there was a lot of pulling out of fancy thick towels with gold embroidered letters going on. "Ooh, do I get to come into a giant communal shower with all of you guys?" Duo wondered in some excitement. 

"Treize, I'm going to go shower at home," was Heero's indirect answer to this question. "I've got to be somewhere. So if you've got a card I can give my sister..." 

"You don't have to 'be somewhere,'" scoffed Duo. 

Heero was far enough away from his friends that were not in the know, and busy enough with changing clothes, that he was able to mutter, "Yes I do: at home," without their hearing or at least questioning. 

Super Eyebrow Man turned toward the locker from which he'd withdrawn the towel that was now draped over his shoulder. "I guess we'll just have to interrogate Quatre," he said pointedly as he came back out with a business card, which he moved to hand to Heero. 

Quatre's face took on an apologetic look. "Actually, I'm leaving too, as soon as I'm showered and changed; I've got some errands to run." 

Duo mimicked his own previous tone. "You don't have 'errands to run.' You both just want to get out of here before you have to talk about _me_." Quatre smiled, but smoothed it away almost immediately. 

Mr. Sparklehair's expression as he met the eyes under the strange eyebrows could only, Duo thought, have been described as 'smarmy.' "Looks like it'll just be you and me for dinner, Treize," he said. 

"So it does, Mill," replied the one with the eyebrows. "Maybe instead of the restaurant here we should just go home to eat. I seem to remember we didn't finish all of that whipped cream from the other night." 

"That's enough of _that_," Heero said loudly. He was seated and leaning down to deal with his shoes, so Duo, lying on the bench beside him still safety-pinned to a polo shirt, could see his face: his smile looked like it had been formed out of all the component parts of a wince. 

Triumphantly, the improbable blonde chuckled.


	57. Part 56

Heero managed to get out of the club with only a few more hints that he should really be explaining what Duo was all about and a few more, less subtle hints that he should really be dating Quatre. It had all gone a lot better than he'd been expecting. 

"So help me out here -- is his name 'Mill' or 'Zechs?'" Duo was wondering as they crossed the parking lot. 

"His name is Milliardo," Heero answered, rolling his eyes a little. "'Zechs' is an old nickname from dental school or something, I guess, and that's what everyone but Treize calls him." 

"Those guys are a riot. How did you meet them?" 

"Quatre met them here, actually." Trying as he did so not to let his gym bag squash Duo (who was again in his pants pocket), Heero started fishing for his keys. There was another good thing he hadn't really expected -- very little talk about his car today from his fellow BMW drivers. "I got dragged into it because they needed a fourth for tennis and stuff." 

"But not basketball," Duo recalled. 

"Every once in a while we can convince them. They always act like they've done us a huge favor, though; it's kindof annoying." 

"That doesn't surprise me," chuckled Duo. "They were acting like everything they did was a huge favor to the whole world." 

Heero laughed too. He liked Treize and Zechs well enough, and tolerated their teasing better than he did that of a great many others, but Duo was certainly right about their attitude. 

Once they were in the car and headed home, Duo's first remark was, "You know a lot of really hot people." 

"You think so?" 

"Yeah, definitely. These tennis friends of yours... pretty much all your co-workers -- I mean, I know there's a million women there, but they're mostly pretty hot, for women... and that super nerd has that slick Chinese look going on... and even that other guy... what did you call him... the E.T. guy..." 

Heero had to laugh a little at this. "I'm going to assume you're joking about the IT guy. And I never would have thought to call Wufei 'really hot.'" 

"That's only because he annoys you," Duo stated positively. 

"He certainly does that," Heero agreed. "But, really, he's not my type." 

"Oh? You have a _type_?" Duo asked his next question in a disturbing mix of his usual flirtatious tone and his excellent Wufei imitation: "And what might that be?" 

If Heero himself had been better at flirting, he would have responded immediately, _"Oh, a long braid and impossibly purple eyes."_ As it was, there was no way to answer accurately without encroaching on confessing-a-crush-on-someone-else's-boyfriend territory, so he had to resort to equivocation. "Like you said, Wufei looks very slick, and he has this sort of self-contained look to him that I don't like. I prefer a..." He shrugged, trying to think of the right word. "A more casual look, I guess... something freer, something a little softer-looking, maybe." He gestured vaguely at his head, thinking of Wufei's silly little ponytail. "Looser hair, I think, among other things..." 

"So more like Quatre?" 

Very carefully Heero said, "He's definitely closer to what I like the look of than Wufei is." 

A long, thoughtful silence followed, during which Heero rather hoped they were done with this subject. He didn't really have a fixed opinion on what he found most visually attractive in a man, and at this point any description more specific than the largely incomprehensible one he'd just given would be that of his mental image of Duo as a human. He could probably avoid being forced to admit this by inquiring into what _Duo_ found attractive -- it would be a perfectly natural next step in the conversation -- but he couldn't bring himself to solicit what would undoubtedly turn out to be a general description of Trowa. 

It didn't matter; Duo shifted the topic anyway. "So why _aren't_ you dating Quatre? I mean, I know that's a stupid question -- why aren't you dating _any_ random person you know, right? -- but you guys seem like you're pretty close, and you get along really well, and he's nice and everything..." 

Heero stifled a deep sigh. That everyone at work thought he and Quatre were together was more amusing than anything else, and with Treize and Zechs the quizzing and denial had become something of a tradition... but when _Duo_ started wondering about it, well, that carried an entirely different meaning. Heero didn't care what anyone else thought, but he didn't want Duo expressing the opinion that he and Quatre would make a great pair. And this was the reason he answered with more complete honesty than he'd ever used to respond to that question before: 

"Quatre _is_ nice. And we _do_ get along really well. But there are some things you can put up with in a friend that would drive you crazy in a boyfriend." 

"Oh, really?" Duo sounded intensely interested. "What's little Quatre got going on that would drive poor Heero crazy?" 

"'Little Quatre?'" Heero echoed dryly. 

Duo chuckled somewhat sheepishly. "'Little Quatre' like 'I-can't-think-of-a-better-affectionate-nickname-on-the-spur-of-the-moment Quatre,'" he explained. 

Briefly Heero considered supplying the Japanese 'chan' to meet this particular vernacular need of Duo's, but upon further reflection decided that, in the long run, nobody would thank him for that. Instead he answered Duo's question: "Well, little Quatre is very controlling. I'm not criticizing him for it -- it's why he's so good at his job, and it doesn't really bother me most of the time -- but I don't think I could deal with it in a relationship." 

Duo _hmm_'d thoughtfully, but didn't say whatever he was thinking. Heero supposed he probably shouldn't be disappointed at this, since chances were good that it involved something he would rather not hear... but he was disappointed. So, instead of just asking, passive-aggressive though he knew it was, he supplied more information in the hopes that Duo would do the same: "He and I _did_ kiss once, though..." 

Rather than extracting the private thoughts from Duo, this seemed to extract Duo momentarily from his private thoughts. "Oh, really?" he repeated. "And how was that?" 

Heero shrugged. "It was a long time ago. We thought we might as well try." 

"That good, huh?" Duo was evidently amused that this was the best description Heero could come up with for the experience in question. "Hmm..." And he slipped right back into his previous contemplative silence. 

So Duo thought Wufei was hot and that it would be logical for Heero and Quatre to be dating. How discouraging. Heero tried to remind himself that this was perfectly natural behavior for a friend and only to be expected, but that wasn't really comforting. At the same time, there was nothing to be done about it. 

Duo only came out of his reverie after Heero had gone through a drive-thru and obtained some dinner for himself. Heero liked and rather looked forward to being treated by one of his excessively rich friends to a meal at the fancy club restaurant after tennis, but Duo's comment in the changing room had been absolutely right -- he'd wanted to get out of there before he had to talk about the doll in his pocket -- so Burger King was the order of the evening. And Duo, on realizing he'd missed the opportunity to talk into the speaker (which was evidently something he enjoyed, since the person on the other end had no way of knowing he wasn't human), finally set aside whatever had been occupying his thoughts so thoroughly. 

"You know, I could count on the number of hands and feet I have total the number of times I've eaten at a restaurant." 

"So, four times?" Heero wondered, somewhat amused. 

"Well, three actually. But I could count that _on_ the number of hands and feet I have total. I can't exactly count anything on one hand above, you know, _one_." Duo waved one of his single-piece hands in the air. "But, yeah, cheaper restaurants where anyone could just walk in and get a sandwich or something took a while to get started... and the nicer places were way out of my league." 

"But you managed it three times." Heero was already digging fries out of the bag as he drove; he never managed to get a fast food meal home with any of the fries left. 

"Yeah... after Trowa started making bank but before I got sick of his new lifestyle, he took me to a couple of places. And before that, _years_ before that, there was this one time when we thought we were going to get evicted, and we had no idea where we would go if we did, so I convinced Trowa to blow all the money we had on eating out and pretending we were all high-class, just to make us feel better. We were maybe... seventeenish... at the time, I think." 

"So instead of paying rent with your money so you _wouldn't_ get evicted..." 

Duo laughed sheepishly. "It wasn't that we couldn't pay rent; it was that the guy who owned the building thought he could get better rent out of some family of eight that was looking for a place. You know, in our two rooms." 

"But still, it sounds like you spent your rent money on food instead." 

"It wasn't just _food_... it was an _experience_. The menus were half in French -- which was what got us started on the whole French nickname thing -- and the waiters were all looking down their noses at us, and everything they asked, they asked all sarcastically, like, 'Will you gentlemen have another glass of lemonaid?' -- because we couldn't afford wine or anything, and they might not have let us have it anyway." 

Heero couldn't help laughing. "That still doesn't explain why you spent your rent money on this." 

"Well, it's a long story..." 

And a long story from Duo, Heero decided, even from a Duo that might think Heero ought to be dating Quatre, was the perfect way to spend most of an evening.


	58. Part 57

  


Sunday was a very lazy day, beginning with Heero sleeping in until around eleven, continuing with some actual watching of TV for once and then some reading aloud, and eventually leading to looking up funny things on the internet while listening to that favorite band of Heero's again. A visit from Trowa in the afternoon was the one thing (apart from Duo suddenly finding himself human again twenty-two days early, of course) that could have made the day pretty much perfect. 

Trowa still seemed inexplicably happier than he had for most of the time since Duo had been reunited with him, and still didn't seem inclined to mention why; but Duo, remembering Quatre's poor performance on the tennis court yesterday, now at least had a theory. Even in this current good mood, Trowa was obviously a little too fragile for much teasing, so Duo wasn't going to mention it if Trowa wasn't -- but he _was_ on the watch. 

What made this particularly interesting was the insight Duo had received yesterday into Quatre's controlling nature, which he thought he could see now that Heero had pointed it out, but which he might not otherwise have noticed for a while. By coincidence, Duo had _just_ been thinking that what Trowa really needed in his life at this stage was someone to take charge of him, to order things for him, to insist that he did what was healthy and _didn't_ do anything guiltily self-destructive. And now Trowa was happier and Quatre was distracted... Well, it could still mean nothing. But _somebody_ was going to have to be teased about it at _some_ point. 

At the moment, Duo was being introduced to the glorious world of lolcats, a style of humor he found, somewhat to his embarrassment, right up his alley. Granted, Heero was also amused, but evidently this was more at Duo's amusement than at the actual 'entertainment.' At least laughter was something Duo had never had a problem with as a doll, though it probably would have been a good deal louder if he'd been human. 

When somebody knocked at the apartment door, Heero muttered, "I thought I saw Quatre go into Trowa's house earlier..." He rose, picked up Duo, and headed out to answer, obviously thinking it odd to have a non-Quatre visitor on a Sunday evening. 

Duo was amused at the picture this painted of Heero's social life (not that it came as any surprise). After confirming Heero's assumption about Quatre, he added in a deliberately bitter tone, "And unless we both fell asleep, he hasn't come back out yet." 

Heero tucked Duo's legs into his jeans pocket as he approached the door; he looked through the little hole, and all Duo could see was the door itself close to his face. "Oh," said Heero. 

"Who is it?" Duo asked unnecessarily. 

Opening the door, Heero disclosed the figure of a woman, who greeted him with a cheerful, "Hi, Heero," and stepped immediately inside. Her Asian features looked vaguely familiar, though Duo had never seen her before, and her voice was one he'd heard while he'd been bent double inside Heero's pocket a week ago. 

"Hi," Heero replied, moving quickly out of the way of both his sister and the large cardboard box she carried. Then he shut the door behind her and turned to watch her place her burden on the kitchen counter. "What's that?" 

"Things I'm getting rid of that I thought you might want," Relena replied. She laughed as she added, "The only time I ever go through things and get rid of stuff I don't need is when I move." 

Duo heard the smile in Heero's answer, "Same here." 

Relena had reached into the box, and now held up some strange device Duo didn't recognize. "You have the same model vacuum I do, don't you? Didn't mama buy them both at the same time?" 

"Yes," Heero replied, reaching out to take the object. "Don't you use this?" 

"No, never, and it's just wasting space. Can you use it?" 

"Well, I already have one..." 

"I'll just take it to Goodwill, then," Relena shrugged. She took whatever it was -- some kind of vacuum attachment, presumably -- from him again and replaced it in the box. "Then there's this..." She started to lift something else out, but at that moment, looking back over at her brother, she caught sight of Duo. Pausing in her movement, then straightening and removing empty hands from the box, she stared at him with that faintly confused expression Duo was so accustomed to. "Heero... why do you have a... Barbie doll? in your pocket?" 

Duo couldn't really see Heero's face from here, but the sound of his sigh was simultaneously defeated and amused. "It's a..." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "It's a long story." 

Relena leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. "OK. I've got time." 

Heero's little laugh was just as helpless as his previous gesture. "Longer than that, even. You'll probably want to sit down." 

"Wow, are you really going to tell her?" Duo was surprised. He'd gotten the feeling Heero was quite fond of his sister, but hadn't thought things would come to this. 

"Yes," Heero answered him aloud. 

"'Yes' what?" wondered Relena. 

Again Heero gave that defeated little chuckle. "Come sit down." 

With a skeptical look, she did as he said, accompanying him to the couch. "You know, the other reason I came over was just to say I was so sorry about mama the other night. But if she sees you carrying around a Barbie doll, I don't know _what_ she'll do." 

Heero sighed. "You don't have to apologize for her. It's not your fault." 

"Yes, but I feel partly responsible when she's trying to set you up with _my_ roommate, or get you to buy _my_ car. She's really too much sometimes!" 

Heero pulled Duo from his pocket as he settled into one corner of the couch, and held him on his lap. (As an aside, Duo liked being on Heero's lap, and thought he really must try it again as soon as he was human.) "Don't worry about it. She'll calm down eventually, once you guys are all settled and the wedding's over." 

"I hope so. So tell me about this doll." 

"This," Heero said seriously, lifting Duo up to chest height, "is Duo Maxwell. Duo, say hi to my sister." 

So obviously they really were going to do this. With a grin and a wave, Duo said, "Hi, Relena. Good to meet you for real at last." 

She didn't even start, only tilted her head slightly with another, very skeptical look and said in a tone to match, "Douzo yoroshiku, Duo-san." 

"I have no idea what that means," Duo replied cheerfully. 

"Duo was once human, but he's been cursed to live as a doll," Heero broke in, in the flattest voice Duo had ever heard from him, before Relena could supply any more Japanese sarcasm. "To break the curse, he has to stay within five feet of me for a month. We're eight days in." 

For a long, long moment, Relena just stared, and Duo thought she was torn between laughter and reaching out to take Heero's temperature. Finally she reached out instead to take Duo, with whom Heero parted only reluctantly. Then Duo found himself closely examined by eyes the same color but not nearly as attractive as Heero's. 

"You will find," he said, "that I am very good-looking. Also notice the awesome Starfleet uniform, which was a present from your brother because he is awesome." He added with a little sigh as Relena began turning him over and scrutinizing his joints, "Also, I have no speakers or wires or anything. It's easier if you just accept that." 

"I don't know what to say," Relena said at last, slowly. "This is so out there that I have a hard time even thinking it's a joke, but..." 

"It's not a joke." In a somewhat peremptory movement, Heero took Duo back and put him in his lap again. "A while back, I was coming out of work, and I saw Duo lying in the gutter......" 

The story took some time to tell, since Relena fairly constantly demanded clarification and a greater level of detail than Heero was providing (and because Duo had to put in his two cents' worth at every opportunity), and when it was over she still had that somewhat stunned look of disbelief and concern on her face. 

"Well," she said finally. "This was not at all what I expected when I came over here tonight." 

"I can't say I ever expected any of this," Heero replied mildly. 

Relena took a deep breath. "OK, so. Magic is real, you're living with a guy who was turned into a Barbie doll a hundred years ago, and that door over there--" she gestured at Trowa's door, which she hadn't noticed until Heero had pointed it out to her-- "opens onto some other guy's house on the east coast." 

Heero nodded. 

"She's taking it better than you did," Duo remarked. He most particularly liked Relena's use of the phrase 'living with a guy.' 

"Especially for getting it all at once," agreed Heero at a murmur. 

Abruptly Relena stood and turned toward aforementioned door. "OK," she said. "Let's just see about that."


	59. Part 58

"Quatre has the key," Heero reminded his sister as she marched toward Trowa's door. 

She shook her head, dismissing this concern, and knocked loudly. Heero had to smile; Relena was nothing if not determined. Standing on tip-toe, she peered through the windows into Trowa's entryway and murmured, "Well, there's definitely someone's house in there. Shouldn't there be another apartment on the other side of this wall?" 

"That's right," said Heero. 

"The house isn't on the other side of the wall, though," Duo supplied. 

"And here's Quatre," marveled Relena. 

The door opened, and there, indeed, was Quatre. He looked surprised, but gave Relena a friendly smile as he greeted her. "So I guess you're in on all this now?" 

She nodded slowly, craning her neck slightly to see past him. "I don't know if I believe 'all this' just yet, but this door thing is pretty amazing." 

Quatre grinned. "Well, come in and meet Trowa. We'll have you believing in no time." 

"'Come in,'" Relena echoed faintly. She looked back at Heero, who shrugged, and then, shrugging herself, followed Quatre through the door. 

As it closed behind them, Duo began to laugh. "God... you know... this situation sucks a lot of the time, but a lot of the time it's really funny too." 

Again Heero had to smile. "I'm glad to be able to tell her," he confessed. 

"Maybe it'll make things easier on you." 

"Yeah, maybe." Mostly Heero was glad to be able to confide in his sister, period. With the current tension between him and his parents, it was simply a relief. 

Relena wasn't gone long, which didn't surprise Heero much; he doubted Trowa looked kindly on random strangers appearing in his house. She and Quatre were deep in conversation as they appeared again through the door, and it seemed to be some kind of enthusiastic discussion about magic, so far as Quatre understood it, and what it could do. Evidently Quatre had been true to his word, and Relena was now a believer. 

She broke off, however, the moment she came back into the room. Heading straight for the couch, she bent and took Duo's right hand between her thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry I was rude before," she said seriously. "It's very nice to meet you, Duo." And she shook his hand. Then she went on in the same level tone, "I find that you are very good-looking, and I notice your Starfleet uniform, and I acknowledge that you have no speakers or wires or anything." 

"Heero," Duo breathed, "I think I'm going to have to marry your sister." 

Everyone laughed, and Relena, releasing the doll's hand, sat back down on the couch. "So I may need to hear the story all over again, now that I believe it," she said. 

"Well," said Quatre, who'd been standing behind Relena and grinning, "I've got a card game to finish, and then I'm going to see if I can convince Trowa to actually get some sleep tonight." 

"A card game, huh?" Duo said loudly (as loudly as Duo was capable, anyway; it was more of a tone, really, than a volume). "Is _that_ what they're calling it these days?" Heero thought there was a touch of bitterness to the tone, and wondered whether Duo recognized the fact that Quatre had a crush on his boyfriend or was simply jealous because he couldn't spend as much time with Trowa as Quatre did. 

Quatre had already turned back toward the door, and acknowledged this pointed statement with only a wave. Soon he was gone. 

"Right, then," said Relena. "Let's hear it all again." 

The next hour and a half passed very pleasantly; strange as the situation was, to be able to share it with Relena was wonderful. Heero thought, too, that she divined a little more of what was going on than he actually articulated: the looks she gave him occasionally seemed to indicate that she was picking up on his unspoken feelings. That came as no great shock... she'd been his first family member to know he was gay, and hadn't expressed any surprise; and she seemed to be one of the few people he knew whose mind it had never crossed that Heero and Quatre were anything more than friends. She simply understood him better than many others. 

Most of the same questions Heero had asked over the weeks Relena now had, and she showed quite a bit of interest in everything the doll said. She was scrupulously polite, to which Duo responded (predictably) by flirting with her the entire time she was there. Silently watching as diplomacy was met with over-the-top flirtation reminded Heero of work parties; but not only did Relena lack the underhandedness of the office diplomats and Duo the desperation and pathos of those that tried to find dates at work parties, there was a sincerity to the friendliness of their words that further foiled the comparison. 

As ten o'clock approached, Relena pulled herself with evident reluctance from the conversation. "I have to get home," she said. Standing, she added to Heero, "You probably need to get to bed, too, if you're going to have another fun day at work tomorrow." And she grinned. She'd been quite amused by the accounts of what Heero had put up with there so far. 

With a short, somewhat bitter laugh Heero stood as well, and followed her over to the kitchen counter. "I'll just leave this here," Relena went on, tapping the box she'd brought. "You can look through it and decide if you want any of it, and I'll come by some other time and grab whatever you don't." 

Heero nodded. "Oh," he said, remembering suddenly. "Hang on." And he went quickly into his bedroom to retrieve off his dresser the business card he'd gotten from Treize yesterday. 

As he returned, Relena was looking at them both thoughtfully. "You really do just pick him up and take him with you everywhere, don't you?" 

Glancing down at Duo in his hand, Heero nodded again and held out the card. 

"Not into the bathroom, though," Duo said sagely. 

Relena laughed, and thanked Heero for the card. "Well, Duo," she said, turning to leave, "it was great to meet you." 

"Yeah, definitely," Duo agreed, waving at her as she opened the apartment door. 

"Oh, yeah, and Heero..." Relena halted and looked back. "There's a book in there; it's a present for you, not something I'm trying to get rid of, since I was pretty sure you didn't have that one." 

"OK," said Heero. "Thanks." 

"See you guys later!" She returned Duo's wave and closed the door behind her as she stepped into the hall beyond. 

Immediately Duo suggested, "Let's see what book it is." There was a mischievous tone to the statement that Heero thought more likely related to the bookshelf where the gift would eventually have to be placed than to the book itself. 

"OK," said Heero again, smiling, and went back to the box. He set Duo down on the counter next to it and began digging through the mismatched contents -- what had led Relena to believe he could use _any_ of this? -- looking for a book. When he found one and saw what it was, he smiled again; this was a very clear symbol of solidarity to accompany the apology regarding their mother. 

"Well, what is it?" asked Duo impatiently. 

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Heero held the book up so Duo could see the cover. 

"Harry Potter?" read Duo. "My last kid used to love those books. I thought they were all called 'Harry Potter and the Something of Something,' though." 

Heero explained. 

"So Harry Potter," Duo mused, "must be some of the books you're so embarrassed about on your bookshelf." 

"They're on the bookshelf, but I'm not embarrassed about them anymore." 

"Anymore?" 

Picking the doll up again and heading into the computer room to put the new book in its place, careful not to let Duo see the shelf as usual -- at which Duo made a number of amusing frustrated noises, even as Heero spoke -- Heero elaborated. "Relena was following the series as it came out, and she kept bugging me to read them. She actually bought me copies of all the books that were out at that point, which was the first four. It turned into our sort of inside joke that she wanted me to read Harry Potter and I wasn't interested, and it got so that she was calling me every single day to ask whether I'd started the first one yet. Eventually I figured I'd better do it before her head exploded." 

Duo broke off making annoyed noises in order to guess, "And then it turned out you liked it?" 

"I..." Heero found himself smiling sheepishly as he admitted, "I liked it so much that I read them all in a month and made Quatre read them all too. Then I got the next three at the midnight 'parties' the day they came out." 

Heartily Duo laughed at him. "And then I bet Relena was like, 'I told you so!!'" 

"Yeah, pretty much." Heero had gone back out to turn off the lights in the kitchen and living room and lock the door. "And she went with me to the midnight things." 

"Well, now _I_ want to read them! I've seen some of the movies, and they were boring, but I guess the books are better if you liked them that much." 

"I haven't liked the movies much," said Heero, setting Duo down on the dresser and looking for pajamas. 

"Well, can we read the books?" 

"We have to finish Oz first." 

"But we still have, like, nine of those to go!" 

"We have to finish Oz first," Heero repeated firmly. 

"OK, well, then, can we have some Oz tonight before you go to sleep?" 

Heero glanced at the clock, thinking about what he needed to get done tomorrow morning -- make lunch sandwiches, among other things -- and just how early he would have to get up for that. 

"Pleeaaase?" Duo begged. 

And it turned out there was no part of Heero that could stand up to that word in that tone from that person. "OK," he said. "Maybe just a little."


	60. Part 59

Quatre had come into Trowa's house to break up a particularly bleak Monday afternoon with the announcement that, as he had meetings all day tomorrow, including through lunch, he was taking an abnormally long break today and they were to have a picnic _right now_. Trowa, in whom the word 'picnic' awakened only a wary avoidant impulse but who wasn't inclined to disagree with Quatre, jumped them to some place Quatre had in mind that turned out to be a nice park somewhere with a lake. 

The neat little sidewalk along which they wandered seemed to be leading over to a playground and some basketball courts, but they left it before it strayed too far from the lake. At this point the latter was eight or ten feet below the level of the path at the bottom of a sort of retaining wall; between this and a railing designed to keep people on the sidewalk, there was a little grassy spot, and on this they sat, dangling their feet over the wall. 

The water down beneath was alive with ducks, to which they dropped little bits of the deli sandwiches Quatre had bought for the occasion. It was cool out, but not cold, and, though there was a distant sound of city traffic, the park was quiet and serene, with no other people about to spoil the atmosphere: all in all, not a bad place and time for the first picnic Trowa had been on in almost a century. 

When he was done eating -- actually, he'd given quite a lot of his lunch to the ducks because they were so funny to watch -- he was more than content to sit still and enjoy the scene. Quatre finished his own sandwich and lemonade, gathered up the wrappers and bottles into the shopping bag in which he'd brought them, then stared complacently down at the lake with a little smile on his face. 

Trowa, who had been looking around at the park and reflecting that being out of the house wasn't nearly so bad when you didn't have to deal with people, eventually found himself watching his companion exclusively. Quatre was swinging his legs, kicking his feet against the brick wall like a little kid in an inexplicably nice business suit, gaze directed intently at the water, hair falling across his face in delicate pale strands that glittered in the sunlight when he moved. Trowa was coming to know well just how firm Quatre was, but he _looked_ so soft... his smooth skin, his perfect lips, the lashes that concealed his downturned eyes... Pushing past the instinct that told him he shouldn't, Trowa reached out. 

As his fingertips brushed, slow and hesitant, across Quatre's chin and over his lips, Quatre raised his head slightly, eyes closed. After this Trowa could feel no breath from him, nor motion either, as if his hand were a rare butterfly that had landed on that fine face as it would on a flower, and Quatre was trying not to frighten it away. Almost without breathing himself, Trowa leaned forward, his hand sliding a little more surely up the far side of Quatre's face. 

Evidently just the very slightest pressure from Trowa's wrist against his jaw was all Quatre had been awaiting, for now he turned and met Trowa's kiss with an unusual gentleness to his commanding enthusiasm, and for a few moments everything in the world was good. Trowa was learning to ignore the prophecies of doom that issued from the darkness in the back of his head at times like this. 

And then somebody on the path behind them commented loudly, "Oh, god, why can't these fucking fags PDA somewhere else?" 

Trowa wouldn't have thought that such a poorly-expressed opinion could have such an effect on him. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being gay -- he'd missed most of the to-do about that issue anyway, and lacked the stigmas -- but he _was_ ashamed of being many other things that he was, things that Quatre shouldn't have to put up with. And it wasn't that he thought there was anything wrong with kissing his boyfriend, wherever they happened to be -- though admittedly he probably couldn't have done it if he'd known there were people around -- but he _did_ have issues with being in this relationship in the first place. 

Not to mention that this was the first time he'd _ever_ kissed _anyone_ in a public place, and practically the first time he'd made this sort of overture toward Quatre rather than its being the other way around... and what was the result? _The first time?_ What was the universe trying to tell him? It just seemed to confirm all of his worries about this situation. 

His impulse was to pull away, but Quatre, whose hand had come to rest on Trowa's shoulder, held him firmly still as he asked very quietly, "Can you teleport us to some place in my head if we're in free-fall?" 

"Probably..." 

"Get ready, then." And Quatre released him, stood up, and turned in one smooth movement. In a louder and much harsher tone he added, "I can't take any more of this harassment." 

A little puzzled, Trowa also stood. Half-turning, he saw a couple of boys on the path watching them in a mixture of scorn and curiosity. They appeared to be high-school-aged, but, as he had no idea what time zone they were in, Trowa couldn't guess whether or not this meant they were truants. One of them carried a basketball, making their destination obvious; they probably found this nearly-empty park convenient for their game, especially if they were, in fact, skipping school. 

He felt Quatre's arms slide around his chest and cling tightly, heard Quatre announce in the same unhappy voice, "This life just isn't worth it anymore!" And then, startlingly, he was off-balance, flying, falling, when Quatre unexpectedly pushed off and sent them both plunging from the wall toward the lake. 

Usually Trowa avoided deliberate use of magic in front of non-magical people, as it tended to do more harm than good, but at this point it was either that or actually fall into the water. Apart from the general discomfort this would cause and the fact that Trowa didn't really know how to swim, Quatre's nice suit would be ruined. So he concentrated on the nearness of Quatre and the idea that Quatre knew where they were going, and spoke the spell as quickly as he could. Still it was some sort of miracle, he thought, that they didn't hit the water before the weightlessness kicked in. 

He'd been concerned that, practically horizontal as they were, they would fall hard onto concrete or a wood floor or some other unpleasant surface wherever they arrived, but Quatre was becoming an expert at envisioning destinations; they landed on something soft, bounced a little, and came to rest quite comfortably. 

Quatre leaned up and kissed Trowa on the cheek. "Well done," he said. 

Trowa, who had begun looking around to ascertain where they were, turned back to the man in his arms and replied, "That was taking an awful chance." 

With a dark chuckle unlike anything Trowa had ever heard from him, Quatre said, "It was the best I could come up with on such short notice. I had to do _something_." He snuggled into Trowa with an air simultaneously annoyed and self-satisfied; the unconstraint of this gesture suggested to Trowa that the bedroom in which they now found themselves was Quatre's own. 

"I doubt it accomplished anything. Your performance was not very convincing." 

Again Quatre gave that unusual, vindictive laugh. "If it made them panic thinking they'd contributed to someone's suicide attempt, even just for one second, then that's good enough. At the very least they'll be confused because we disappeared." 

Trowa smiled against the top of Quatre's head, and went back to examining the room. 

It was nicely furnished. The bed on which they lay, a dresser, and a large desk nearby were all antiques, but it took Trowa, whose own life was so full of dated things and whose eyes were so accustomed to eclectic decorating, a moment to realize this. These well preserved walnut pieces had probably come from before even his time, and looked like a matched set. 

It was also scrupulously neat and clean. From the wooden model vehicles on their little shelves -- remnants of a childhood hobby of Quatre's? -- to the meticulously well-organized surface of the desk -- Trowa, though no real expert on human behavior, hadn't thought it _physically possible_ to keep a computer desk that neat -- to the books that stood in a size order that was probably only secondarily alphabetical, there was no trace of dust or anything that appeared to be the slightest bit out of place. 

Even the two items that adorned the walls where they were free of shelves -- one an amateur landscape on canvas and the other a bulletin board tiled with photos -- had their edges aligned with the seams of the vertical wood paneling so perfectly that if Trowa hadn't known better he would have thought magic was involved. Everything here was so pointedly, precisely charming somehow... very much like Quatre himself. And here Trowa was lying on Quatre's _bed_... and Quatre was kissing him again, starting with his neck and ear and moving over his face to his mouth. 

Last Friday's excursion into the realm of sexual activity had left Trowa very definitely interested in further exploration. His guilt hadn't disappeared, and he certainly wasn't ready to take any sort of initiative in the matter, but now when Quatre was this close to him he was conscious of sensations he hadn't felt in he didn't remember how long. Quatre was like spring sunlight after a very long winter, and in more ways than just this; now, as Quatre kissed him leisurely and kept them tight against each other with a firm arm, Trowa felt his blood heating and his skin tingling. 

By the time Quatre left Trowa's lips to the cool, hungry air and put his mouth instead by Trowa's ear to murmur, "I want you to do something for me," Trowa was ready to comply with any request at all. 

At Trowa's futile attempt to articulate this sentiment, Quatre chuckled and kissed him on the nose. Then he pulled away, disappointingly, and propped himself up on an elbow. "If you can," he amended. "Would you make your door open onto this room?" He gestured. "I'd like to be able to come see you without having to go through Heero's apartment." 

Thinking that he would also like this, Trowa readily agreed, despite having been hoping for a more interesting request. And as Quatre was now sitting up beginning to look around in a very practical fashion, thus negating the possibility of any such interesting activities, Trowa joined him in this with as good a grace as he could command. 

Quatre, it seemed, had made sure to keep his hand on the bag containing their trash from lunch when they'd jumped here, something Trowa definitely wouldn't have thought of, and now he took this up again from where he'd let it fall, and went to throw it away beside the desk. And as he did so he remarked, "I don't have a single empty spot on my walls that's big enough to put a door into." 

"No," Trowa agreed. "But that won't be a problem, if you don't mind me using your closet door." 

"How will that work?" 

"It will be like my door from the inside; you'll just have to concentrate on what you want it to open onto." 

Quatre grinned. "Well, I didn't really need that closet anyway." 

Trowa had already turned toward the door in question and begun to run through the necessary magic in his mind before he realized what Quatre meant, and by then it was too late to try to think of an appropriate response. He really wasn't very good at this flirting thing. But the remark did please him, and, as he set about preparing for the first spell he was to cast, he smiled a little.


	61. Part 60

  


If Quatre had known how long the door-linking would take, he wouldn't have requested it of Trowa so close to the time he'd had to leave. And if he'd known how ritualistic a spell it was, how much effort it required of its caster, he might not have requested it at all. He hadn't wanted to stop Trowa, however, once the process was started, because working out complicated magic seemed to be something Trowa genuinely enjoyed -- and _almost_ without attendant guilt, apparently -- and Quatre wouldn't take that experience from him for the world. 

But it _had_ been necessary for him to rush away the very moment Trowa was finished, hurrying to get back to work in something like a timely fashion and leaving a lot of things unsaid. Things like, _"It's amazing to watch you do that,"_ and, _"That is so sexy,"_ and half a million questions concerning the various elements of the ritual and their purpose. Fortunately, these could all be expressed after work (and after the near-perfect distraction of thinking about it all afternoon _during_ work). 

It was with great pleasure that Quatre headed toward his own house rather than Heero's apartment upon leaving the office, for the first time in... how long had it been? A week? It wasn't that he minded spending a lot of time at Heero's apartment -- he'd _always_ spent a lot of time at Heero's apartment -- but having direct access to Trowa's front door from his bedroom was a delightfully more intimate arrangement that he was looking forward to taking advantage of. 

There was a joke somewhere in getting into his boyfriend's house through his closet door, but Quatre couldn't quite put it together. Duo probably could have; Quatre would have to mention it to him at some point just to see what he would say. Except that, as far as Quatre knew, neither Duo nor Heero was aware of any of this. 

Trowa, evidently out of some erroneous sense that this constituted a betrayal of some sort, hadn't yet been able to bring himself to tell Duo -- though Quatre understood he'd gone over there a few times hoping he could manage it -- and Quatre had continually failed to mention it to Heero for various reasons. Which meant six days of Heero unnecessarily under the false impression that Duo and Trowa were still in love... six days of Quatre being a terrible person and a miserable friend. He would really have to fix that. 

Not right now, though. 

Trowa was in his study, in his chair, at his table, with his head bent over a book, but there was about him that look of just having begun to move that indicated he hadn't been working at least a minute ago, if not all evening. Quatre was aware that the dilution of the amount of work Trowa got done was due in large part these days to the distraction that came from being involved with Quatre... he couldn't help feeling a little bad about this, but at the same time, it was _much_ better than how things had previously been. 

Actually, it looked as if Trowa might just have awakened from another chair-bound nap, which was, on the scale of ways Trowa could spend his time, far toward the desirable end. As was beginning to be something of a custom, Quatre came over and sat down on Trowa's lap in the chair. 

"I take back every negative thought I ever had about this chair," he said as he did so. "I'm really quite fond of it now." 

Trowa, accepting Quatre's embrace, paused in the act of reciprocating and asked, "What didn't you like about it?" 

"It's probably the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Quatre answered seriously, running a hand across the tassels on the underside of one of the arms. 

"Is it?" Trowa seemed genuinely surprised. 

Quatre laughed and kissed him. When he'd finished with that he told him, "Well, like I said, I like it now." 

They discussed then what Trowa had and hadn't gotten done on his book today, as well as a few minor and largely uninteresting points of Quatre's day at work, and finally, at Quatre's insistence, Trowa explained in detail the spell he'd cast earlier. 

Quatre very much enjoyed it when Trowa talked about magic. For one thing, Trowa seemed to enjoy it too, and there weren't a lot of things about which that could be said, and even fewer he could be said to enjoy without immediately hating himself for it. But there was also the simple fact that Quatre found it all very interesting, and Trowa's knowledge and understanding very impressive. 

This particular spell, though Trowa claimed it was not difficult, was very involved, and required, as Quatre had noticed earlier, a good deal of energy -- especially since it drew upon two different branches of magic, one of which was not Trowa's specific area of skill. Hence, as well, its ritualistic nature. 

Really it seemed to be a number of spells wrapped up in one, and the only reason Trowa had even known how to do it was that one of his followers had once built him a new computer in exchange for his working it out so her boyfriend could accept the promotion he'd been offered and still visit her two states away during her last college term. Evidently the couple had broken up not long after, and at least one of them still owed Trowa a favor for his subsequent dismantling of the spell. 

Trowa's explanations often required fairly extensive elaboration, since Quatre didn't understand a lot of the magical terms he used, and the conversation expanded into one about magic and its various branches. It was extremely engrossing and fascinating, and Quatre had to try his hardest not to act like a raving fanboy. _Some_ expression of appreciation was definitely called for, however, and this Quatre was more than ready to give. Of course this diluted the discussion even further, but neither of them was complaining. 

When the clock in the entry struck four, however, Quatre jumped up in some distress. "Why is this the first time I've heard the clock?" he demanded of no one. "I mean, it only makes noise every fifteen minutes." Turning, he pulled Trowa out of the chair to join him standing. "_You've_ been distracting me again." 

"I'm sorry," Trowa offered, and Quatre was glad to find that he seemed a lot more facetious about it than the last time they'd had an exchange like this. Quatre grinned and kissed him, then headed out for the entry. As he still held Trowa's hand, Trowa was forced to follow. 

Given that it was 1AM in his time zone and he had meetings all day tomorrow where he really would have to pay attention, he'd been planning on a relatively quick goodnight and immediate departure... but he found that the kiss just now had been enough only to make him want more. So, since a _slightly_ longer goodnight could not really worsen things, he turned to face Trowa again with a playful smile and slowly backed him into the wall. 

Trowa's hands came to rest on the small of Quatre's back as Quatre pushed up against him and kissed him slowly and deeply, and Quatre raised his own hands to tangle into Trowa's smooth hair. He made a satisfied noise as he squirmed slowly, grinding Trowa against the hard surface behind him, then released his lips and began nibbling on his ear instead. 

"Oh..." breathed Trowa, apparently somewhat inadvertently. Shifting slightly, Quatre realized exactly why this was. 

He looked Trowa in the eye with a smile and a raised brow as he ran the back of his hand very lightly over the sudden bulge in Trowa's pants. "I wasn't even grinding all that hard," he teased. 

"But earlier... We were on your bed, and... ever since then..." 

Now Quatre's brows contracted in an expression of both amusement and pity. "You should have said something before! I don't have time now!" Though admittedly if Trowa were to ask him to stay, Quatre would not require much convincing to do so, meetings or no meetings tomorrow. 

Trowa did not ask. He didn't even complain. He merely nodded. Quatre was disappointed, but not terribly surprised. And that was when he was struck with a thought. 

"So I've got to go," he said, and, though his mouth had spread into a wider smile, his tone was almost businesslike. "But I want you to be sure and take care of this, OK?" 

For a moment Trowa didn't seem to understand, but eventually he began, "Oh, I don't..." And it wasn't even a tone of protest, simply a statement of fact. 

"I know you don't," Quatre murmured, leaning up close to Trowa's ear, "but this time I want you to. I want you to think all about how _I_ would be taking care of it if I didn't need to get home and go to bed." His voice dropped even lower as he finished, "I want you to think about _me_ while you're doing it." 

Drawing back, he gave Trowa his least innocent smile. Was it his imagination, or was there a touch of color, for once, to Trowa's pale cheeks? Trowa was staring fixedly at him, eyes unblinking and mouth slightly ajar; Quatre had no doubt that he had _never_ been given such an order before in his long life. 

"Good night," Quatre said cheerily, and turned completely away. 

One thing was certain: _Quatre_ was definitely thinking of _Trowa_ as he went to sleep. He wondered if Trowa would do as he was told, and whether it would be admissible, tomorrow after work, to make him describe it. 

Tomorrow came as early as usual, after a string of particularly provocative dreams, and Quatre could tell already that he was going to have to make an effort not to be horribly distracted all day long. His usual jogging circuit, his shower, and his drive to work were already full of thoughts of Trowa, even when Quatre was specifically trying to concentrate on the day ahead of him. And it didn't get any better when he was settled in at the first of his many meetings with a cup of iced coffee and already having a hard time focusing on the words of the program director addressing them all. With a monumental effort of will, he dragged his mind off the memory of Trowa's mouth against his and tried to do his job properly. 

The one o'clock meeting at the downtown office was destined to be the worst, as it involved many of those most likely to take note of Quatre's state. He'd picked up lunch for himself and his father -- the only two people that would be physically present at this location -- and made it there on time, but, as his father hadn't arrived yet, had almost immediately slipped back into daydreams without even a struggle. 

"Oh, Quatre, you're all ready to go," was his father's greeting as he came into the office. 

"Hmm?" wondered Quatre a little absently. Then, figuratively shaking himself, he blushed. It wasn't that there was anything inherently wrong or embarrassing about his thoughts; it was just that this man was both his father and his boss, and here Quatre was a million miles away thinking about sex on company time. 

If Mr. Winner noticed that Quatre was particularly distracted, he made no comment at the moment. Instead he bent his white head over the bags on the table to see what Quatre had brought him for lunch while Quatre double-checked the distance conference setup. Soon they were connected to the other regional managers, and, since nearly all of them were family, commencing the relatively unprofessional series of greetings and superficial catchings-up that came at the beginning of every meeting held at this level of the corporation. Quatre dug into his lunch and tried not to fall behind. 

When the meeting properly started, he felt he was doing fairly well -- but just the fact that there was still a part of his brain analyzing how much attention he was paying to his work showed that another part still pointedly wasn't. Overall, however, he thought he kept his thoughts off of Trowa and what he'd like to do to Trowa, and made the expected contributions to the discussion, fairly well. 

At least, that was the impression he had of his own performance right up until the moment his father reached out to shut off the projector that had been bringing them the sights and sounds of their familial co-workers, and turned slowly toward him with a conspicuously skeptical look. He didn't even have to wonder; he went straight to the point. "So what's his name?" 

Quatre grinned sheepishly and turned back toward his laptop to close his programs. "Trowa," he answered. "Trowa Barton." 

His father nodded slowly. "Is he rational?" 

Although Quatre knew that by this he meant, "Does he have a steady job and no socially unacceptable or self-destructive tendencies?" he chose to answer in the affirmative. He didn't feel like trying to explain all about Trowa at this point. 

"Nice?" his father wondered next, and there was an edge to the word. He hadn't approved of most of the guys Quatre had dated so far. 

Again Quatre wasn't sure that an unqualified 'yes' was really the correct answer, but gave it anyway. 

"And this is the real reason you took that week off," his father went on. 

Quatre felt a little bad continually giving these half-truths, but what else could he say besides another yes? 

His father's white-mustached mouth spread into an amused grin. "Well, it's obvious that you're very fond of this one. You should bring him by sometime so your mother and I can meet him." 

Quatre smiled. "OK, I will." 

"And in the meantime," his father continued in a more pointed tone (though without any unkindness), "pull yourself together! I thought I was going to have to reach over and shake you a couple of times today!" 

"Sorry!" Quatre gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm usually not quite this bad..." 

"Oh?" His father raised a brow. "And what happened last night that's left you so distracted today in particular?" 

"Nothing much," Quatre told him honestly. "It was more something that got me thinking about what might happen later." 

"So you're not sleeping with this boy yet?" 

"Dad! You're not allowed to ask that!" 

"When it concerns both my son's happiness and my Pacific Division Regional Manager's productivity, I'm allowed to ask anything I want." Mr. Winner was smiling, and there was no real reproof in the statement. 

"Well, don't worry," Quatre said, returning the smile. "Everything's going great. And I swear I'm not usually this distracted." 

His father gave him a significant look. "Just make sure you do what you have to to keep it that way. I don't want to see my little boy in another bad relationship, _or_ one of my excellent managers falling behind." 

"Thanks," said Quatre, pleased at hearing himself called an excellent manager. "Maybe you'll meet him one of these days, and then you can see what you think." 

His father nodded and rose. "I'll see you at home later," he said. "Oh, and don't forget to send me those compiled reports; I still want to look over that." 

"I'm going to head back to Lex," Quatre told him, "so I'll be able to put those together and send them before I go home." 

"Good. Thanks. Later, then." And Mr. Winner left the room. 

Quatre continued to smile after him for a moment before turning to clean up their lunch things and partially dismantle the computer setup they used for these cross-country meetings. A secretary would deal with the components, but Quatre liked to make sure it was taken apart properly before he left -- it made things easier in the long run. 

_"Do what you have to to keep it that way,"_ huh? Quatre was more than pleased at having such a father... and pretty sure he knew exactly what he was going to do about Trowa before the week was up.


	62. Part 61

Heero was becoming fairly skilled at getting rid of Wufei. Wednesday's encounter seemed as if Wufei wanted it to involve a discussion of Star Wars and probably its merits relative to Star Trek... but, although Heero was a good deal more familiar with one than the other and might at least have known what Duo and Wufei were arguing here, he discovered to his great surprise that Duo was almost entirely ignorant of Star Wars. 

So, as Heero really only knew Star Wars casually and couldn't hope to meet Wufei in a discussion of it, he disentangled himself from the conversation with what he thought was growing expertise. 

This necessitated Heero clarifying the whole Star Wars thing to Duo at lunch, as Duo, though he had, of course, heard of it, wasn't even certain how many movies there were. He got very excited upon learning there were six, and eventually, smiling, Heero promised to rent them all for him to watch. After this their conversation drifted into comfortable silence. 

He imagined Duo, once the curse was broken and he had freedom of movement and of choice, tracking down every single sci-fi movie he'd never seen. Actually, there were a lot of things he could imagine Duo doing as a non-doll, and some of them seemed mutually exclusive. 

With this in mind, Heero eventually asked idly, "So what will you do when you're human again?" 

He'd been expecting Duo to mention, if not all the movies he planned on watching, at least the foods he planned on eating and the sleep he planned on getting; Duo's actual answer, "Move in with Trowa, I guess," was something of an unpleasant surprise. "I can't wait to see that weird house of his," Duo went on with discouraging enthusiasm. "Quatre says he's still got a Victrola. And you'll be glad to have me out of your hair, too." 

Feeling that some response was required, Heero muttered something about Duo being no trouble. 

"Oh, bullshit," was Duo's relatively cheerful reply. "You're a trooper, but don't think I can't see how much this sucks for you. I'll be buying you lunch every day for a year, remember?" 

It occurred to Heero that, if hearing Duo talk about Trowa was bothering him _now_, a _human_ Duo, affable and oblivious and flirtatious and probably extremely hot and _still_ talking about Trowa, would drive him right over the edge. How in the world was he going to deal with this once Duo's curse was broken? Would it even be possible for him to be around Duo at that point? 

"That was just a joke," he said, more shortly than he'd intended. "You don't really have to do that." 

"Oh, I... OK." Duo seemed a little surprised at this, but recovered almost immediately. "Since when do _you_ make jokes?" 

"It does happen sometimes." 

"Well, good. Good to know." And they drifted again, though this silence was, at least to Heero, far less comfortable. 

It was easier to make it back to work in a timely fashion after an exchange like that. He'd been pleased with himself for leaving to go to lunch and getting back from it on time every day so far this week, but today he could hardly take any credit for it, and there was no pleasure in it. 

He thought Quatre must still be having a hard time with punctuality, though -- and no wonder, if he was making a twenty-minute drive to Heero's apartment and another one back -- and today seemed to be no exception, as the email Heero received from him that afternoon came at around two thirty. The subject read, _Personal stuff I probably shouldn't be emailing you about at work_, at which Heero smiled faintly as he opened the message. Then the latter started out with, _Insofar as the word applies, Trowa and I are now dating_, and Heero got no farther than this for a very long time. 

Stunned, he read that line over and over and over until eventually the symbols on the screen in front of his eyes lost all meaning, after which he simply sat and stared. Finally, though, dragging himself out of that red-hot rut, he forced his eyes and brain to concentrate, and read on. 

_This started last Tuesday, and I'm sorry I haven't let you know sooner. I've meant to tell you every single day, but I didn't think it was a good idea to announce right in front of Duo that it's OK for you to put the moves on him, and when you two weren't around I'll admit it just slipped my mind. Please understand that I was distracted, not indifferent._

_Trowa says that he and Duo were in love in the 20's (god, that's strange to write), and that the whole argument that started all of this was about each other, not about the woman. But they were never actually together, and it's all over now._

_So my point is that I hope things go as well for you as they are for me._

_\--Quatre_

Heero sat back. He restrained himself with an iron will from looking down at Duo, who would surely remark upon it if Heero turned a shocked and horrified gaze on him. 

_Trowa and I are now dating._

_He and Duo were in love in the 20's._

_"Move in with Trowa, I guess."_

He remembered what Duo had told him about Trowa on Saturday: _"He seemed really... agitated. But not in a bad way. He didn't tell me anything that would explain it."_ Well, now Heero had the explanation. 

Quatre may have thought he was giving Heero good news and a green flag; not having spent nearly as much time with Duo, he couldn't have known the burden he was placing on his friend's shoulders. Because this was obviously going to be just as much news to Duo as it was to Heero, and not the good kind. 

_But they were never actually together, and it's all over now._

Could Quatre really know that? Heero found himself grinding his teeth. He had a feeling Trowa understood the situation better than Quatre did; Trowa _must_ be aware of how Duo still felt about him, or else why hadn't he mentioned his involvement with Quatre on one of the several occasions when he'd talked to Duo since last Tuesday? He knew -- _he knew_, and he'd been too cowardly to say anything about it. 

Unfortunately, this was a cowardice that Heero could easily comprehend. Duo had been waiting _so long_, putting that cheerful face on just about the worst situation Heero could imagine, probably staving off insanity only with the hope that he and Trowa would someday be together again... how on _earth_ could you tell someone in such a predicament that the man he'd been waiting for, putting all his hope in, faithfully thinking of for eighty-seven years... the man he was in love with... had abandoned him for someone else? 

And how on earth had it fallen to Heero's lot to be the one to tell him? 

He _did_ spare a thought or two for Quatre, wondering vaguely whether this would turn out well for him. Quatre had a history of attracting emotionally high-maintenance guys that wanted their lives lived for them -- people with huge issues they weren't willing even to _attempt_ to solve for themselves, boyfriends that would request Quatre's presence at any inconvenient time for support and comfort but offered very little (if anything) in return... Heero couldn't help feeling some doubt that Trowa would be any better than the previous lineup. 

But Quatre could -- and did -- take care of himself. Heero couldn't dwell on this subject long, since the issue of the doll sitting on the desk beside him was nearly all-consuming. He risked a look down at Duo, who at that moment happened to have his head turned in another direction and didn't see, and felt his heart clench with a stabbing sense of pity and sorrow. He couldn't do it; he couldn't bring himself to hurt Duo by telling him this news. It had to be done, of course, but right now, today, Heero was certain he could not manage it. 

_"Move in with Trowa, I guess."_

What was he going to do about this?


	63. Part 62

Heero, Duo found, was still not in the best mood on Thursday. Duo wanted to bother him to find out what had been bothering him, but, after Heero's remark yesterday about the whole lunch-for-a-year thing having been a joke, didn't feel he was quite to the point where he could pry into such personal matters. Which was disheartening when, if you'd asked him on Tuesday, he would have said that he probably _had_ reached that point. 

But, then, that remark had been disheartening in general. Every time he started to think that maybe... 

Well, it didn't matter. Heero was breaking the curse for him; Heero was his friend; that should be enough. When Heero was already giving him so much, Duo shouldn't be bitter about not getting more. And he could enjoy Heero's company no matter what was or wasn't likely to come of it, and, to some extent, no matter what Heero's mood. 

The latter, at least, did improve as the day progressed. Heero was still a good deal more quietly pensive than usual at lunch (which Duo tried to make up for by being twice as cheerful himself), but by mid-afternoon his normal demeanor seemed to be back in place. Duo thought it helped that not a single person had come by to stare or ask stupid questions today. That was a first -- although, as Heero had hoped it would, the harassment had slowed up quite a bit this week. People still gave the doll funny looks when they came seeking Heero's help, but they'd stopped showing up specifically to see Duo. 

Of course Live Long And Prosper Guy was still around, but he was a separate category: he didn't come to see Duo, but rather to find out Heero's thoughts on tanar'ri, baatezu, and censorship. When Heero had no idea what he was talking about (and was forced to admit it, since Duo didn't either), the guy didn't appear at all put out, as his real purpose seemed simply to have been to rant about it to someone. Heero tolerated him for a while, and then dismissed him with the threat of Dorothy. 

Heero still had to hasten through the door when the day was over, though; Hazard A Guess Guy had been eyeing him at around five o'clock lately as if he might want to corner him on his way out and talk more nerd at him. Today, at least, they made it downstairs and out to Heero's car safely, and as they commenced the homeward drive, Heero mentioned, apparently more to himself than his companion, that it was the fifteenth. 

"How many days left?" asked Duo. 

After only half a moment's thought Heero answered, "Eighteen. But the fifteenth is bill day, so you'll have to watch TV or something for a while." 

"Nooooo!" Duo cried. "Not TV!" As he'd hoped, this made Heero smile a little. 

Unusually, Heero didn't change clothing when he got home. Duo hadn't ever been able to decide whether he liked the t-shirts and jeans or the suit and tie better, and was glad to have regular exposure to both, but he did wonder at the reason for this behavior today. When Heero explained briefly that looking over his bills felt like work, Duo had to restrain a laugh at this interesting compartmentalism of thought. 

Bill time didn't last very long; evidently it was more a financial checkup than any real sort of diagnosis and treatment. That seemed like a good idea, if you happened to have money; Duo had never had enough in his life to give much thought to budgeting. He wasn't terribly surprised that Heero was responsible about this sort of thing, though. 

There was actually no TV involved, since most of what Heero was looking at was on the computer. Evidently to Heero's great annoyance, however, the one thing he still couldn't do from home was pay his rent -- which meant that the last part of bill day was walking down to the apartment office to put an enveloped check into the night drop-box. 

"I only even _have_ a checkbook anymore for rent," Heero complained as he turned away from this successful operation and directed his steps toward the mailboxes up the hill. "_Everything_ else I either have set up on an automatic payment, or else I can do it online." 

Duo laughed. "The internet makes life so much easier for anti-social people, doesn't it?" 

"I am not anti-social," Heero said calmly -- but it was a hopeless calm that bespoke the frequent repetition of this sentiment. 

"Reclusive, then." 

Heero made a doubtful sound. "I guess I'll accept that." 

"I'm sorry?" As she pulled something from her own mailbox, a woman that Duo, at least, had not noticed as they approached looked up with this startled query. 

"Oh..." Heero sounded embarrassed. "No, I was talking to myself... sorry." 

The woman smiled and went back to what she was doing. Duo tried not to laugh. It would have been even funnier, probably, if she had noticed him in the pocket of Heero's slacks, but it was already pretty entertaining. He didn't want to make Heero feel bad, though. 

Heero, Duo had noticed, rarely checked his mail, probably because the boxes were on the other side of the complex from where he lived and not even on his way in from the parking lot. The few times he had gone out there while Duo had been here with him, he'd come back practically overloaded with mail, most of which he threw away. Duo supposed it made sense, if Heero managed almost all his finances online, that he didn't care much what he got in the paper mail. Now he took his armful of what looked like a large collection of coupons and whatnot and headed back to his own apartment without daring to speak to Duo again. Once inside, he began sorting through the mail on the counter, grumbling softly about the excessive amount of junk. 

Duo was just beginning to ask whether it was possible to live without a mailing address when Heero suddenly went still, looking at an envelope he'd just picked up. Duo, who was sitting on the counter facing him, could easily see the slow smile growing on his face into an expression that looked happier than anything Duo had seen there all day. Duo broke off what he'd been saying to ask, "What is it?" 

"It's for you." Heero turned the off-white envelope around and held it down where Duo could see it. 

Duo found himself unable to speak as he stared at the rounded handwriting that spelled out his name above Heero's address. Abruptly he was feeling all the incapacitation of being choked up without a throat to give him the actual sensation. Somebody had sent him mail, just as if he were a normal human being. Somebody had written out his name over an actual address on a real envelope, put a stamp on it, and _mailed_ it to him. What he finally managed to say, inappropriately, was, "Shit...!" 

Heero laughed. "How long has it been since you got mail?" 

"I don't know... ninety years?" Again he was having speech difficulties with nothing physical to excuse them. "And there wasn't all that much of it for people like me back then anyway..." 

"Want me to open it?" Heero's eyes rested on Duo with interest. Duo was almost certain that, despite his limited plastic facial expression, exactly what this meant to him was plain to Heero. 

"Let me look at it for one more second," Duo said breathlessly. 

Heero laughed again and complied, allowing Duo to look his fill at his own name, at the physical stamp featuring a basket of purple pansies and the word 'love,' at the post office stamp atop that, at the lack of return address. Duo got the feeling Heero knew where it had come from, but he wouldn't for the world have asked and spoiled the best surprise he'd had since Trowa had walked into this very room and back into his life after eighty-seven years. 

"OK," he said finally, when the excitement and interest and pleasure had made him almost giddy, "open it." As Heero's hands moved, Duo added hastily, "But don't mangle the envelope or anything, OK? I want... I mean, do you mind if I keep it?" 

"It's your mail, Duo," Heero replied with a smile as he neatly slit the top of the envelope with a butter knife he'd had out for this purpose. "You can do whatever you want with it." 

"Well, in your space..." 

Instead of answering, Heero pulled a card from the envelope and held it out for Duo to see. 

What to expect from this Duo really hadn't had the faintest idea. The number of people that could have addressed the envelope was incredibly small, and its contents, however much they meant to Duo, were unlikely to be particularly intrinsically meaningful. Or so he'd thought. 

Inside the card's low-relief floral border, it read in gold script, "The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Relena Yuy and Colin Elwynn Morris, Saturday, July 10th, 2010," followed by the name and address of an Episcopal church in the area. 

If Duo had been capable of it, he would have cried. The only written invitation to anything he remembered _ever_ having received before had been in crayon and delivered simultaneously to two Barbies and a teddy bear. A mailed invitation to a wedding was something people sent to their real, normal, human friends. And he'd only met Relena just the once! Such kindness and thoughtfulness was unexpected and overwhelming. 

"The actual wedding, even," Heero murmured. "Not just the reception. And she knows you'll be human again by then too." He sounded impressed and pleased, and Duo in turn was pleased that his happiness at this was making Heero happy -- especially as it seemed to have erased the last lingering traces of Heero's previous mood. 

"Can you call her?" Duo requested eagerly. "I need to ask her to marry me."


	64. Part 63

Relena picked up just when Heero was sure the call was going to go to voicemail. "Hey, Heero," she greeted him. 

"Hi," Heero replied, and went on in Japanese. "I called to tell you Duo got your invitation." 

"Wow, really?" Relena complied with his oblique request not to speak English. "Already?" 

"Yeah. I wanted you to know how much he appreciates it. I don't think he's ever been invited to a wedding before, and he says he hasn't gotten mail in ninety years." 

"I thought that might be the case. I thought it would be nice for him to have something happy to look forward to going to with regular people once he's not a doll anymore." 

Said doll was making frustrated noises at not being able to understand anything Heero was saying, waving his arms in odd patterns in the air. 

"Yes, definitely," Heero agreed, smiling at Duo's antics. "It means a lot to him. You don't realize how happy you've made him." 

"And that makes _you_ happy," Relena guessed, sounding smug. 

"Yes," admitted Heero. 

"And you're talking to me in Japanese because you haven't told _him_ yet that you like him and you're embarrassed to say this kind of thing in front of him." 

To be honest, Heero was a little embarrassed even to be saying it in Japanese, and had turned half away from Duo to hide his face. "Anyone listening to you would think you'd grown up with me," he said with dry humor. 

She chuckled. "I thought so." 

"Whenever you Japs are finished with your top secret conversation," Duo said loudly, "I want to talk to Relena!" 

"Whenever you plastic dolls are finished with your racial slurs," Heero retorted, "maybe I'll let you." 

"Oh," said Duo. "Is that a..." He paused for a moment. "I guess it is. Sorry!" 

"You even lived through World War II. You should know this." 

"Yeah, but at that point I was busy raising a family of stuffed animals bigger than I was with a porcelain doll named Shirley!" Duo protested. "But, still, I'm sorry. I'll never say it again." 

Relena was laughing. "I'm only hearing bits and pieces of this, but it sounds wonderful." 

"He wants to talk to you." 

"Well, let him!" 

Heero looked down at Duo solemnly. 

"I'm really sorry." By now Duo sounded a little distressed. "I promise I won't say it again." 

It was impossible to keep up a stern expression when faced with a penitently worried Duo, and Heero hadn't actually been much offended anyway. "It's OK," he said with smile, and lowered the phone to the doll's level, placing it in what he thought would be the best position for the hearing and being heard of those involved in the subsequent conversation. 

"Hi, Relena!" was Duo's greeting. 

"What's this I hear you calling me?" Heero heard his sister say. 

"I'm sorry!" Duo wailed. 

She laughed, and said something else Heero couldn't make out. 

"Well, I wanted to say thanks for the invitation. Thanks a _lot_. I'll definitely come, in one shape or another. I mean, I _should_ be human by then, but you never know. Either way, I don't know if I'll have anything appropriate to wear." 

Relena seemed to answer with something to the purpose of Heero being surely able to find Duo a tuxedo. 

"Yeah, but it may have to be a human-size tux, and he can't be spending that much money on me." 

Heero thought he gladly could be, but didn't say so. 

"Well, maybe Heero can find you a job too," Relena suggested, and went on to say something about the company Heero worked for only hiring people that were best friends with someone that already worked there. Heero snorted. 

"Now _there's_ an idea," said Duo thoughtfully. "I could keep that nerd guy from bothering Heero all the time..." 

Relena said something else Heero didn't catch. 

"I will!" Duo replied heartily. "Right now! Oh, but first, I needed to ask you to marry me." 

Something in an amused tone from Relena was followed up by, "You meet me in the church on July tenth, and we'll see what happens." 

"That's good enough for me!" Duo grinned. "And, seriously, thanks again for the invite." 

"You're very welcome. Put my brother back on, would you?" 

Heero returned the phone to his own ear. "Here I am." 

Bluntly, though in Japanese, Relena asked, "Any particular reason you haven't told this guy how you feel about him?" 

Heero answered just as bluntly in the same language. "He's in love with his friend." 

"The one with the psycho eyes who lives behind the door in your living room wall?" Relena sounded surprised. "That's funny... I got the impression he and Quatre..." 

"Yeah, there's that too. It's a little complicated." 

"Well, I'm sorry about that. I was watching you guys the other night, and I thought... well, that's too bad." 

"I've been telling myself it doesn't matter," said Heero firmly. "Duo's a good friend, and I wouldn't want to lose that. I can be happy with that." 

"Oh, Heero," she half laughed and half sighed. "You can keep telling yourself that right up until it starts to hurt, but then I expect you to get out of the situation, OK? Don't be a masochist." 

"OK, fine," he replied in much the same tone. He didn't feel like admitting that it already hurt. 

"And, seriously, if you don't find a steady boyfriend, mama's never going to stop plotting to make a grandchild-fathering straight man out of you." 

"Well, when are _you_ going to tell her that you and Colin aren't planning on kids?" 

Now Relena gave a sigh that held no amusement whatsoever. "I don't know. I haven't had the nerve yet. It's going to make her so unhappy." 

"I know _that_ feeling." 

She gave a somewhat bitter laugh. "Well, I'll talk to you whenever, and we'll see what we've come up with by then." 

"Thanks again for inviting Duo," Heero said. 

Her laugh was more pleasant now. "I've never been thanked so much for anything before! He must really be happy about it!" 

"You have no idea," said Heero sincerely. He didn't think he completely understood Duo's happiness at this, and _he'd_ watched it build. 

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Heero replaced his phone in his pocket. Then he looked down at Duo again. 

"So do you think I really could get a job where you work, once the curse is broken?" was Duo's immediate query. 

Heero went back to sorting the mail. "Possibly." 

"What exactly do all those people I've met up there _do_?" Duo wondered next. "Besides asking you a million questions." 

So Heero explained about the sales team's various functions, the job requirements, the training, and the fact that having a friend working there really _was_ a good way to get hired yourself. And through it all he tried to brace himself for this actually happening. Having human Duo around him at work every day was an ambivalent prospect. 

But he'd meant what he'd told his sister: Duo's friendship was valuable enough to him that he didn't want to push him away, even if the resultant closeness that wasn't quite everything he wanted threatened to drive him insane. And as a friend, he would do whatever he could to make sure Duo's new life as a human went well. He would help him land on his feet; he would get him a job, if he could; he would help him find a home and start living again; he would assist in whatever way Duo needed. He would tell him in the kindest possible manner that Trowa didn't love him anymore. Just as soon as he figured out how.


	65. Part 64

With each day that passed, the moment of Quatre's departure in the evening became more difficult for Trowa. He knew both that he probably shouldn't be getting this attached to and desirous of Quatre's extended companionship, and that Quatre really did have a job and places to be in the mornings... but he couldn't help feeling disappointed when conversation started working its way around to Quatre's getting up and leaving. 

Thus Trowa was startled and pleased when, instead of the usual _"Well, I should get going"_ on Friday, Quatre asked unexpectedly, "Can I spend the night?" Which explained why he'd brought a backpack with him. Not that Quatre's bedroom and the rest of his house wasn't just through the front door, but it was like Quatre to come specifically prepared. 

And did this mean...? It probably did, and it would probably have been obvious to anyone else that knew people and the world better, and it would probably seem very stupid to request clarification... but Trowa had to be sure. "Are you saying," he asked slowly, "that you want to have sex?" 

Quatre's face took on a smile that was simultaneously fond, pitying, and full of a laughter in which there was no derision. "Yes, Trowa," he said kindly, "that's what I'm saying." 

"And are you aware..." said Trowa, even more slowly, "that I've never done that before? With anyone?" 

"I thought that might be the case." Quatre leaned up and pecked him briefly on the lips. "As long as it's all right with _you_..." 

It was more than all right with Trowa, despite the nervousness that had gripped him and everything he feared he might feel afterward. "Yes," he said. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Why do you always ask me that?" Trowa was surprised at his own impatience as he voiced this complaint. "Yes, I'm sure." 

Quatre also looked somewhat surprised. "You've been alone for a long time," he explained seriously, "and I know I'm sometimes a little overbearing. I don't want to push you into anything you'll regret afterwards." 

"Everything I enjoy I regret afterwards," was Trowa's blunt response. "Sometimes I even regret it at the time. But you were the one who told me I need to stop pushing away good experiences because I feel guilty about enjoying them." 

Appearing at the same moment pleased that Trowa was making this effort and concerned that there _was_ still regret and guilt involved in all of this -- and overall as if he was about to ask, 'Are you sure?' again -- Quatre seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a few silent seconds. Eventually he must have decided that Trowa was, in fact, sure -- or at least had the right to act as if he was -- for he leaned up to kiss him briefly again and then said, with a playful smile, "Well, let's have a shower." 

Taken aback by what seemed to him a total shift in conversational focus, Trowa echoed blankly, "A shower?" 

"You know, where the water comes out and you get clean?" Quatre teased. "You do have..." He paused, his smile fading and his brows lowering as a thought struck him and caused his joking question to turn abruptly totally serious. "You do _have_ a shower, don't you?" 

"Oh, yes," Trowa reassured him hastily. "I just never use it." 

Looking perplexed and amused, "You've never seemed anything but perfectly clean to me," Quatre remarked. 

"I use magic to keep clean. It's quicker and easier." 

Now Quatre's smile spread out into a wondering grin of sudden understanding. "That's why you always smell like books," he said: "you get rid of the dirt with magic, but never wash the smell off." 

Trowa wasn't aware that he did smell like books -- though Quatre had told him more than once that he smelled nice -- but thought this assessment was probably accurate. 

Now Quatre took him by the arm and began pulling him toward the study (and, presumably, the bedroom and bathroom beyond). "Well, come on," he said. "A shower every now and then won't hurt." 

Trowa rather suspected it would do just the opposite, and followed willingly. 

He found himself very nervous about removing his clothes, something he'd never done in front of someone -- at least in this context -- his entire adult life. What if Quatre didn't like him... what if Quatre decided to call things off right then and there, and walked out, leaving Trowa naked, heartbroken, _and_ guilty... what if Trowa's thin, pale, inexperienced body brought everything to an end? 

Besides this, there were other considerations slowing Trowa's hands on his shirt buttons. 

Quatre stepped out of his shoes, which he placed neatly against the wall beside the door, and then, with no apparent hesitation, took off his pants. Trowa's eyes lingered on his bare legs, following them up to where the shirt obscured everything else and back down to the black socks he had yet to remove, while Quatre unthreaded his belt from his slacks, rolled the former and folded the latter, and placed both neatly on the closed toilet seat. Then he removed his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt, and by this point Trowa was completely motionless, riveted. 

Unsurprisingly, Quatre folded his shirt as well, and stacked it on the other items on the toilet, then folded his tie in half exactly twice and set it atop the shirt. This put his back to Trowa again, who took the opportunity to examine two little dimples in the smooth flesh just above where an interesting indentation disappeared beneath a pair of tight, plain boxer briefs. Quatre bent to remove his socks (which he then balled and placed in one of his shoes), and this movement caused every last aspect of the area Trowa's eyes were fixed on to shift and tighten. Involuntarily Trowa caught his breath. 

Hearing this, Quatre whirled on him with a knowing grin. Instead of saying anything, he advanced until he was pressed up against Trowa, who in turn found himself pressed up against the sink. Quatre seized Trowa's hands and brought them sliding down his sides, abandoning them only when he'd tucked Trowa's fingertips under the waistband of his briefs in an unspoken but unmistakable command. 

Trowa wasn't sure whether nervousness or arousal made his movements more jerky, but at least he didn't hesitate: his hands dug in, pushing the garment down over Quatre's buttocks. The briefs stuck and hung in front on an already-halfway-erect penis, and Trowa thought that the act of clumsily disentangling this, and especially the little breath of pleasure and anticipation Quatre gave as he did so, would drive him crazy. 

Meanwhile, Quatre was attacking Trowa's shirt with motions far more dexterous and sure than any of Trowa's -- was he good at this because he'd done it with many others? how on earth was Trowa supposed to compare? -- and had it off in almost no time. He didn't fold it as he had his own clothing; either he was content to leave any such obsessive neatness relating to Trowa's clothes up to Trowa himself, or happenings had gotten too interesting over here for him to make the effort. He did, however, drop it behind him onto his things on the toilet, rather than onto the floor, before returning to deal with Trowa's pants. 

"You know I've wanted to get you naked ever since I first saw you?" he murmured as he eased the khaki slacks down Trowa's thighs, revealing another bulging pair of briefs. 

"Is that why you got me drunk?" Trowa wondered breathlessly, leaning on the sink while Quatre pulled his pants entirely off of him. 

Quatre laughed, twisting around again to drape the slacks over the toilet. He stepped out of his own briefs, which had been stretched between his knees, and sent them to join the rest of it. Then he pressed up against Trowa once more, stroking him through his underwear so suddenly that Trowa let out a surprised groan. 

Up over Trowa's jaw and cheekbone and ear Quatre's lips crept as his hands eased Trowa out of the last garment covering any human flesh in the room. And when this, too, had taken its place on the toilet seat, Quatre stood back and made a great show of examining Trowa from head to toe. In response to this Trowa was torn; he doubted that what Quatre saw could possibly be particularly pleasant to look at, but at the same time it gave him the opportunity to return the scrutiny with interest -- and Quatre naked was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his long life. Everything, from his utterly unabashed little smile to his well-shaped chest and the perfect slight inward curve of his waist to the dusting of pale, curling hair around his erection to the muscular lines of his legs... _everything_ Trowa saw heightened his arousal and desire. 

His nervous fears were somewhat allayed, for the moment, when Quatre gave a thoughtfully pleased _mmm_ing sound and a widened smile. He took Trowa's hand and pulled him toward the bath. 

"You really _don't_ use this!" was his amused remark as he pulled the shower curtain aside and looked around at the totally empty tub and the showerhead above from which not a gleam of dripping water showed. 

"I'm not even sure why I have a shower curtain at all," Trowa admitted, allowing Quatre to pull him into the bathtub. 

"It's a good thing you do, or my shower plan would be ruined." 

"I could contain the water magically, if I needed to." 

Quatre, who had arranged the curtain in question and then started fiddling with the taps, now abruptly pulled the little metal thing that switched the water up to the shower, apparently without regard to the temperature, and whirled on Trowa again. "Could you?" he demanded. He slid his arms up Trowa's bare chest and pushed him against the wall. "Have I told you how sexy it is when you do magic?" 

Taken by surprise by the sudden burst of cold water against his naked body, the cold tiles of the wall against his back, and most of all by Quatre's remark, Trowa was barely able to get out a halting answer in the negative before Quatre was kissing him hard, pressed up against him again in an electric shifting of newly-wet skin. Mercilessly teasing, Quatre ran hands down and up Trowa's sides, over his shoulders and back down onto his collarbone and chest, but did not touch him anywhere else even as he thoroughly explored Trowa's mouth with his tongue. 

By the time he withdrew, they were both shivering with cold and, at least in Trowa's case, frustrated need, and Quatre took a moment to adjust the water temperature before returning to driving his lover absolutely out of his mind. 

Trowa had originally assumed that the idea behind the shower was to get clean for the sake of more pleasant sex; then Quatre's manner of undressing them both and practically incapacitating Trowa with kisses had made him think rather that the sex was going to take place _in_ the shower. Now, as Quatre dragged him under the newly-warm water and began leisurely to follow its trails down Trowa's body with his fingers -- but never _quite_ to where Trowa would prefer they go -- he really wasn't sure _what_ the point of the shower was. 

But the sensation of Quatre pushing his wet hair entirely back out of his face and kissing him right in the midst of the flowing water, the like of which Trowa had never felt before and that made all his skin tingle and his erection throb almost unbearably, led him eventually to the conclusion that he didn't really care.


	66. Part 65

The purpose of the shower had been to help Trowa over some of his painfully obvious nervousness and make things a little easier on him by getting him good and ready long before anything potentially daunting was asked of him. Quatre wasn't sure how well it had worked, especially given that Trowa still definitely wasn't taking any sort of initiative... but he _did_ seem to be feeling a _little_ less awkward. 

Now Quatre, dripping onto the cool tiles of the bathroom floor, was frowning slightly as he looked around the room. "Towels?" he wondered. 

In that blank tone indicating he'd been unexpectedly confronted by some aspect of the real world that he wasn't ready for, Trowa echoed, "Towels..." and followed Quatre's gaze around at the vacant rack on the wall and the small, equally empty cabinet under the sink that Quatre had just opened. He pulled himself together, though, and began to speak in the magical language. 

Quatre made a little noise of surprise as a rush of hot air swept over him from nowhere and he suddenly found his body every bit as dry as if he _had_ had a towel. And he couldn't quite decide whether the sensation itself or the sound of Trowa's voice casting the spell had turned him on more. 

He reached out to pull Trowa closer to him, kissing him again and running his other hand up Trowa's newly-dried skin into his damp hair. After a few moments he released him but for their clasped hands, and began to walk toward the door, smiling. Trowa allowed himself to be dragged out into the bedroom without protest, but Quatre thought his movements still indicated some serious nervousness. He had a strong urge to ask Trowa just one more time if he was sure he wanted to do this, but repressed it. He would simply have to trust him to volunteer any feelings of discomfort or any desire to stop. 

The old bed creaked as Quatre scrambled backward onto it, and again as he pulled Trowa after him. At first Trowa was very stiff as Quatre kissed him from the seated position in which they'd come to rest, but Quatre's hand on his equally-stiff erection melted him completely, and he lay back as Quatre pressed forward. Soon Quatre was half on top of him, straddling one leg, sucking on his neck and fingering the head of his penis while Trowa's long hands clutched at Quatre's sides and his breaths came short and hard. 

Wrapping his hand fully around Trowa's shaft, he began to stroke him slowly up and down, simultaneously grinding his own against Trowa's hip, his faint moan mingling with Trowa's slightly louder one. Trowa's fingers pressed bruisingly into Quatre's ribs, a sensation Quatre rather liked, and his slender body seemed entirely tense, as if ready for some great effort. 

Quatre drifted farther down so that he was straddling Trowa's knee and his mouth could explore the pale, almost translucent skin of Trowa's chest. Along Quatre's back and into his hair Trowa's hands slipped as he moved, and clenched almost painfully when Quatre found a nipple and began teasing it with tongue and teeth. Determined to leave a mark, he began sucking hard, and at the same moment discontinued stroking Trowa's erection in favor of exploring down over his balls and beyond. 

Trowa gasped and stiffened even farther as Quatre's finger drifted across and then pressed against his tight opening, but if Quatre had been afraid this was a negative or reluctant reaction, he didn't have to worry long, as Trowa's unoccupied leg moved almost immediately to widen the space, drawing up and giving Quatre better access in a tacit gesture of permission. 

Releasing the area of skin he'd been deliberately bruising, Quatre lapped at the spot as he slowly, very slowly, worked his middle finger into Trowa up to the knuckle and then began gradually pulling it back out again. Trowa's hands were tangling his hair, tightening against his scalp in almost trembling movements, and when Quatre finally withdrew and shifted back up to meet Trowa's eyes, those hands pulled him down into a kiss with desperate insistence. 

Before they'd gone to shower, Quatre had been careful to set his backpack down next to the bed where it could be easily reached, but even so he had to get off of Trowa entirely and move to the edge in order to get at what he needed. Trowa, who might not even have been clear on what Quatre was doing, dragged him into another hungry kiss the moment he returned. He kept his bright moon eyes fixed on Quatre as the latter sat up, adjusted, and lay back down. 

Now, draped across Trowa's stomach and chest, Quatre had both hands available to get the plastic bottle open. This was his favorite brand of lube: water-soluble, non-staining, a bit thicker than other types, and only very faintly scented. And the breathy groan Trowa made as Quatre's slickened finger probed at him endeared it to him even more. 

Probably curious about what Quatre was going to do in this new position, Trowa had propped himself up on his elbows, but now he went flat on his back again and clutched once more at Quatre's side with groping hands. When Quatre's entire pointer finger was inside him and beginning a slow, circular motion, Trowa choked out his name. Quatre paused. "No, don't stop," Trowa gasped. "Please don't stop." 

The desire in the words made Quatre harder than ever, hot blood pounding through his erection as if driven by a hammer, and not to stop was what he wanted more than anything. In fact, going a little faster might even be nice. 

Trowa was squirming and panting as Quatre added another finger and quickened the pace with which he pushed them in and drew them out. Quatre was trying not to imagine what it was going to feel like to be inside Trowa with more than just fingers, lest he go crazy wanting him before Trowa was ready; and yet the glowing, gorgeous imagining that _would_ take place no matter how he tried to repress it was making him pant. But he kept himself under control, working at preparing Trowa as thoroughly as possible; knowing how Trowa was likely to feel about this after it was over, he wanted to make damn sure that he enjoyed it at the time. 

And yet, the farther he reached into Trowa and the more he stretched him, the more desperate became the little cries that issued from Trowa's throat and the tighter Trowa's hands gripped. Quatre didn't think he could help being somewhat disappointed if Trowa came before he was buried inside him, and this impelled him to remove his fingers entirely and sit up. 

Trowa was watching him through slitted eyes, and his lips were trembling; the coloration of his face looked almost natural, which Quatre thought must be his version of a flush, and the faint glow Quatre had always observed about him seemed brighter now than ever before. As Quatre looked down at him, Trowa swallowed hard in the midst of the gasping breaths that made his chest heave, and gave a hesitant little smile. This was enough to drive Quatre right to the edge, and he was positioning himself between Trowa's legs even before he started to ask, "Are you ready?" 

Almost manically, Trowa nodded, and replied in an uneven whisper, "I think so." 

With hands that weren't entirely steady Quatre ripped open the condom he'd brought and practically fumbled it on. Then, as he slathered a final helping of lubricant across its outer surface, he moaned helplessly. He wanted in there so badly, and raising his eyes to meet Trowa's gaze -- still clearly nervous, but trusting and anticipatory -- did nothing but increase his need. But he must not do it too quickly; he had to do this right. 

He took a deep breath and smoothed his hands out over Trowa's thighs, pushing them to a better position and encouraging his whole lower body up into a better angle. Then he slid forward, spreading his own legs a little farther for better stability, and, supported on one hand on the bed beside Trowa's chest, used his other to guide the head of his erection to the heat of Trowa's anus. And, though it was an ongoing, shuddering battle against the aching urge to slam into that tight space, to make Trowa yell and writhe, to thrust into him as fast and hard as possible until he came, Quatre pushed in as slowly as he could bring himself to move. 

Trowa's entire body stiffened as he received Quatre inside him -- except for his penis, which softened somewhat -- and his hands found Quatre's back once again and clawed in. Eyes squeezed tight shut, lips still trembling slightly, he let out a long wavering breath that eventually turned into a deep groan and then a series of staccato gasps. Quatre, his own body similarly stiff and trembling with the desire to move, let them settle into a position of readiness and then stilled. He bent and kissed Trowa's sweating brow. "Does it hurt?" he asked. 

After gulping another breath, Trowa tried to answer, but evidently coherent words wouldn't come. Finally, his eyes dragging open to their previous slitted state and casting their glow upward onto Quatre's face, he shook his head. Quatre, thinking he probably meant that it didn't hurt more than he could handle, remained motionless for the moment. 

And Trowa, with a long, shuddering breath, began slowly rotating his hips, testing the sensations of having Quatre inside him, and lightly clenching various internal muscles. Quatre, who really had not been expecting this of him, was taken by surprise and jerked forward in a hard thrust, gasping out as he did so, "Oh... Trowa..." 

Trowa gave a surprised cry of his own as Quatre thrust into him, and his legs drew up so that his bare feet were curling against Quatre's thighs. Quatre, who hadn't meant to move despite how wonderful it had been, tried even harder now to keep still, though he knew it was only a matter of time before he wasn't going to be able to anymore. Shifting back onto the one hand, he bent and kissed Trowa hard, and with his other hand reached down between them to try to tease Trowa fully erect again. He could feel Trowa's errant moans through his own lips and tongue, and Trowa's fingers were digging into his back harder than ever. 

If Trowa was still feeling any significant discomfort, he gave no sign of it, and it didn't prevent his penis hardening right up again under Quatre's touch. And he was still _moving_, too, squirming as if this were more than he could bear, or perhaps as if he knew what it was doing to Quatre and genuinely wanted to drive him mad. Or possibly both. Whatever the case, Quatre was already beginning to draw out and press back in again almost without realizing he was doing it. At least he was still moving slowly. 

With a long groan Trowa went even stiffer, every muscle in his body seemingly taut -- including the ones that were currently surrounding the part of Quatre that was inside him. Quatre echoed his groan, and, putting both hands once again at Trowa's sides, quickened his pace. He found a pattern that he liked, and Trowa's continued movement that changed the angle slightly with every rhythmic thrust made it absolutely perfect. 

There wasn't much warning, but still Quatre wasn't terribly surprised when Trowa came after not too long. Evidently Trowa was surprised, however, if the mesmerizing cry he gave or the captivating expression on his beautiful face was any indication. Quatre appreciated these indications of ecstasy, was conscious of the nails digging into his flesh and the burning heat between them, through a sort of erotic haze, for Trowa had tightened so much around him as he'd orgasmed that Quatre was seeing stars. 

His earlier impulse, to pound into a writhing Trowa hard and fast until he was satisfied, was all of a sudden a reality. Trowa curled upward against him, gasping into Quatre's neck and shoulder, clinging to him, twisting and panting and moaning, as Quatre moved at greater and greater speed. For a second time, in his abandon, Quatre whispered Trowa's name as he felt himself drawing close to fulfillment. 

And when Trowa replied by whispering Quatre's name in return, with no hint of despair or guilt to the word -- just simple pleasure and satisfaction at being here now sharing this with him -- that was more than enough. Everything seemed simultaneously to tighten and expand as that lightening-shock of enjoyment hit him; he gave two last deep, forceful thrusts into Trowa as he came, groaning out his satisfaction as the wave of orgasm shuddered through his body, and then gradually stilled. 

Slowly they both unclenched, relaxing down onto the bed and into each other's arms in a hot haze of calming breaths. Trowa's eyes were closed, but a little smile was on his parted lips, which Quatre kissed briefly before letting his own face fall to the blanket as his head sank down past a shoulder and his cheek came to rest against Trowa's. 

The scent of sweat and sex was in the air, and Trowa's hands were slowly caressing his back, and he was already sinking into a warm, comfortable afterglow. Though fully aware that he might have to start thinking about damage control after not too long, Quatre was very pleased, for now, just to lie here and enjoy this moment.


	67. Part 66

Though there were currently a number of parts of Trowa that he thought could not possibly feel _any_ better, still, overall, he felt a lot better once the light was off and his body was hidden from sight. 

Quatre had flitted around, getting them cleaned up, letting Trowa remain still and contemplative, going to shut off the lamp in the study next door as well as the light in this room, and at last returning to join Trowa underneath the blanket. Then he curled up right against him, one arm across Trowa's chest and his breath warm on Trowa's neck. 

Trowa was concentrating in some fascination on the sensations in his lower half: a warm, pervasive satisfaction contrasted with an aching soreness, not to mention the very present, very visceral memory of how it had felt to be so filled, so tight... He never could have imagined how good it would be. But he was also pleased by this gentler contact; Quatre's fingers were sliding slowly over his chest, exploring him almost lazily. 

"You know," Quatre said presently, "I was expecting your skin to glow in the dark." 

Trowa wasn't really sure what to say to that. His skin was horribly pale; he supposed it would make some sense for it to phosphoresce. 

"Your _eyes_ actually glow..." Quatre went on, leaning forward so he was speaking against Trowa's shoulder in a sort of conversational kiss. "And your skin sort of glows in the light, so I'm a little surprised it doesn't in the dark." When Trowa still had nothing to say, Quatre finished, "Either way, you have the most beautiful skin I've ever seen." 

Now Trowa was startled. He'd thought Quatre was remarking on the properties of his cursed body as an insect collector might note some interesting feature of a new specimen; that there could be admiration in the comment had never crossed Trowa's mind. "It's so unnatural," he protested. 

"Oh, I know... but it's a _nice_ unnatural. It's like a shell -- one of those ones that looks like it's going to be transparent before you pick it up, but then turns out not to be. Besides..." Quatre nuzzled his face against Trowa's arm with a little contented sigh. "I doubt it was the curse that made it feel so smooth and soft. I wonder if it's just that the air here is perfect for it, or that you never bathe, or both, or what..." He pressed his lips to Trowa's shoulder again and then lay still. 

Trowa's level of pleasure at this compliment was unexpectedly great, perhaps because it had come from someone that had just made him feel so amazingly good. He'd always regarded his skin as vaguely distasteful in this state, but he didn't think Quatre was lying about finding it attractive. 

"I'm interested in seeing what you'll look like once the curse is broken, too," mused Quatre. "I do hope it won't change _too_ much, though." 

"Just the skin and the eyes, as far as I remember... though I don't know why you wouldn't want to change the rest of it at the same time." 

Quatre snorted. "The rest of _what_, Trowa? These amazing shoulders? Your perfect chest? This flat stomach? This nice long cock? Your sexy legs?" He touched each as he mentioned it, and Trowa shivered. "Because if you were thinking of trying to change any of that with magic or whatever, I'll have to officially complain." 

"But I'm so..." Trowa searched for a word that would describe what he was -- a starved little pathetic half-man like some sort of skeletal cave-dwelling creature that should probably never come out into the light -- and eventually settled for one that only said a small part: "...skinny." 

"Well, I won't say you couldn't do with some meat on your bones, but that doesn't mean they're not very nice bones." Quatre chuckled. "And I've already gotten you started on a regular routine of eating once a day!" 

"So _that's_ what that's about." Trowa's tone was only half-joking as he implied that Quatre was trying to fatten him up in order to make him more attractive. 

"It's _because_," Quatre said somewhat severely, "eating regularly is _healthy_. And because you'll need to be in the habit once the curse is broken. And also," he added more lightly, "because it's enjoyable, and I want to tempt you into _all_ the pleasures of the flesh." 

Trowa raised a hand to clasp the one of Quatre's that lay on his chest. "Well, you're off to an excellent start." 

"'Excellent?'" Quatre sounded pleased. "Is that how you'd describe it?" 

"If you mean the sex..." Trowa took a deep breath. "I don't really have words to describe it, but 'excellent' isn't a bad place to start." He tried a few others anyway, trailing off eventually in a murmur: "Amazing... spectacular... incredible..." 

"Oh, _good_," Quatre said emphatically. 

"Were you worried?" wondered Trowa in surprise that bordered on disbelief. 

Quatre's hand squeezed his, and the arm connected to it pressed down in a sort of half hug. "Of course I was. I don't think anyone ever has sex without being a _little_ worried that the other person won't like it... and, besides, it was your first time, and sometimes that's not... as good as it could be." 

"It was good," Trowa said, astonished to find himself offering what seemed to be reassurance to Quatre. "Better than 'good.'" 

"I'm glad," said Quatre happily. "It was great for me too." 

"'Great?'" Trowa echoed cautiously. "Not 'All right considering I had no idea what I was doing?'" And even 'doing' was a generous term, as Trowa had spent most of the time frozen in uncertainty. 

"You did fine. It _was_ 'great.' It was _wonderful_. You felt soooo good." 

Trowa found his face heating. "So did you," he said softly. 

"Mmm," said Quatre, and clasped him tightly. 

A long silence passed in warmth and comfort, and Trowa thought Quatre had fallen asleep until he spoke again quietly, very seriously and perhaps even a little forlornly: "I hope you aren't regretting it or feeling guilty..." 

"I'm..." The best Trowa could manage was, "I'm trying not to." 

"I wish I could help you with that," Quatre said sadly. 

Now it was Trowa's turn to squeeze Quatre's hand. "Just having you here helps." 

Eventually Quatre's breathing lengthened and regulated, and Trowa lay in the dark holding his hand, enjoying the warmth of him at his side, and pondering. There was still a part of him maintaining that someone like him didn't deserve anything like this, didn't deserve to feel pleasure or contentment; that Quatre was too good for him, and this entire relationship was an inappropriate distraction from what really mattered... 

But there was another part, and it was growing stronger, that argued that this wasn't hurting Duo or prolonging the curse; that Quatre was a very intelligent man and could choose his dalliances as he saw fit; that perhaps even someone like Trowa, even someone that had cursed his best friend, could enjoy himself every now and then without throwing the universe out of balance. He wasn't sure how much he _believed_ all of this, and perhaps it was just the afterglow talking anyway, but surely the fact that the thoughts were there at all must be a step in the direction Quatre wanted him to take. 

And he had been completely serious before; having Quatre there _did_ help. Quatre was still his buffer against self-loathing and shame, and feeling him lying there, solid and warm beside him, made Trowa's thoughts, made Trowa's _life_ \-- seemed, indeed, to make all of existence significantly brighter.


	68. Part 67

Heero had laid Duo's invitation and its envelope on the end table where Duo could easily see them whenever he was sitting there, and Duo had lost track of how often he'd gleefully reread them by Saturday. He was beside them now, staring at them in contentment as he talked to Heero. Without being a dick (given that the transportation and money and television were all Heero's), Duo was trying to convince his host that renting all the Star Wars movies was a great way to provide themselves with entertainment for the weekend. 

Heero, who was eating a leisurely breakfast on the couch, just smiled and said, "If I get my cleaning and laundry done, we'll go rent them tonight and watch them tomorrow." 

"All six of them? How long will that take?" 

"Well, maybe we'll watch one tonight." 

"Yay!" Duo waved his arms and legs as he cheered, and this reminded him... "Hey, did you notice I can bend my knees now?" 

"No! Since when?" 

"I'm not really sure," Duo admitted. "I don't need them very often since I still can't walk anyway -- doll does not stand alone -- so it could have happened a long time before I actually noticed." 

"But when did you notice?" Heero's tone was accusatory. 

"A couple of nights ago while you were asleep. I tried not to freak out about it and wake you up." 

"And then you didn't tell me until just now?" 

"I forgot!" 

Heero looked at him sternly. "You owe me, then. You'll have to tell me some interesting story about the 1910's while I do my cleaning." 

Thus they spent the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon. Heero got his apartment cleaned up, at first to the sound of Duo telling him what he remembered of the orphanage that had been his first home and from which he'd run away while still very young. This concerned the decade before the one Heero had specified, but Heero didn't seem to mind. 

When that story was finished, they experimented with Duo taking a turn reading aloud, but this was a definite no-go for a variety of reasons. First, Duo's voice was often insufficient to rise above the sounds of bathtub-scrubbing and the like. Then, although he could keep the book open by sitting on it, his subsequent range of vision did not include the full two pages; he couldn't tilt his head far enough down, and got in his own way. And those same pages proved almost impossible for him to turn; in fact, levering himself up in order to attempt it at one point led to the book's closing and falling off the bathroom counter into the trash can. This was frustrating, but in an entertaining sort of way, and Duo was generally pleased with anything that could make Heero laugh, even if it _was_ at his expense. 

After this, Heero took a shower while Duo sat outside the door and practiced whistling. This was largely for the sake of being able to whistle more loudly and elaborately at Heero's towel-wrapped figure when it emerged from the bathroom -- partly to express his genuine appreciation, and partly because it made Heero laugh. 

"You're getting better at that," was Heero's remark upon being greeted with _Don't Be Cruel_ (as accurately as Duo could remember it). 

"It's all for you," said Duo solemnly. "You deserve the best whistle I can give!" 

Heero rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

True to his word, Heero agreed that it was Star Wars time once the housework and shower were taken care of. So they went to a rental place, and on the way Heero educated Duo about Netflix. "I don't have a subscription right now," he said, "because there haven't been a lot of things I've felt like watching lately, but maybe I'll start it up again." 

"Aww, would you do that for me?" 

"If it keeps you from watching TV all day." 

"How is watching movies different, though?" 

"I'm not really sure. But it is." 

Duo laughed. 

The look the rental store clerk gave the somber man that walked in to rent all six Star Wars movies at once with a uniformed Star Trek doll peeking out of his jeans pocket was absolutely priceless. Duo thought he should really stop being so amused at Heero's embarrassment and discomfort, but at least Heero was relatively good-natured about it; besides, when Duo could actively enjoy some aspect of being a doll, it seemed impractical not to. Besides besides, Heero had laughed at _him_ earlier when he'd dropped the book. 

"You guys have fun," was the clerk's sarcastic goodbye. 

As Heero had his back to her at that point, Duo felt safe in replying audibly, "OK!" 

"I've been thinking about that," Heero said as he set Duo down in the passenger seat and stacked the DVD's beside him. 

"Having fun?" Duo interrupted in a suggestive tone. 

Heero did an excellent imitation of not having heard. "About you talking to people. We've been pretty secretive about you and your curse, and pretty careful about you talking where people might hear you... but why? Of course if you talked to people at work, it would turn into complete chaos, but, just in general, is there any particular reason to keep you a secret?" 

"Me?" Duo made a thoughtful noise. "Not really, I guess. Most people would just think what you guys did at first: robot, practical joke, whatever... It's kinda funny how I'm a super-great example of really strong magic, but I seem so mundane that magic's the last thing anyone thinks when they meet me." 

"You? Mundane?" Heero wondered. 

Duo beamed, and could tell they were turning a corner when the entire pile of DVD's slid over on top of him. From his new position lying on his side underneath at least one of them he said, "My point is that I'm not really something that gives away the existence of magic right away, so, no, it's probably not all that important to keep me, specifically, secret." 

"But magic in general?" Heero reached over blindly and pushed the DVD's off the seat (and Duo) onto the floor. 

"Thank you." Painstakingly Duo righted himself as he answered the question. "Back in the day, Trowa and I never bothered hiding the fact that we could do magic, and nobody got on our case about it. But we couldn't really do anything big at that point, and I don't know how many people we did tricks for believed it was actual magic and not just... tricks." 

"So there aren't any laws about magic and who can and can't see it?" 

"Not that I know of, but I'm really not the best person to ask, since I've, y'know, been a doll for ninety years. There's probably got to be _something_, though, or else more people would know." He paused. "Huh, now I want to know too. I'll have to ask Trowa." 

"It makes sense," Heero mused, "that magic should be a secret, at least most of the time. You said you've seen some of the Harry Potter movies, right? In that world, they have all sorts of laws and things preventing non-magical people from finding out that magic exists so they don't all start demanding magical assistance in their everyday lives." 

"You know, I used to think that was a good idea too, but eventually I changed my mind. I mean, having magic is a natural talent just like being able to sing well, isn't it? Why shouldn't people with magic help people who don't have it, just like people who sing well entertain people who don't?" 

"Good point... But we've lived in a society without magic for so long; if magicians started publicly using their magic for non-magical people, it would change everything about how the world works." 

"Only because they've been _hiding_ it for so long, though. If magicians hadn't been holed up in secret cults or whatever for so many centuries, we'd have evolved societies where magic was just a normal part of life." 

"But since we haven't, it's probably best to keep things the way they are and keep it a secret, isn't it?" 

"Maybe..." 

This discussion was so interesting that it took them all the way home and then lasted a good while into what they had previously intended to be Star-Wars-watching time. When the latter did eventually arrive, Duo found Heero looking thoughtfully at Trowa's door as he loaded up the first DVD. 

"Quatre mentioned a few weeks ago that he wanted to rewatch these sometime," Heero murmured. "I wonder what he's up to..." 

"I haven't seen him in days," remarked Duo, following Heero's gaze. "I wonder if he's gotten sick of going over to Trowa's and making him eat lunch and stuff." 

"No, he's... he's still been going over there. You've just missed him." 

"How could _I_ have missed him if _you_ noticed him?" 

Heero shrugged. 

"I guess your dazzling presence was just distracting me from everything else." 

With a monosyllabic laugh Heero said, "Well, now it's time to be distracted by Star Wars. Quatre will just have to rewatch them on his own time." 

Duo cheered. Then he settled happily against his lamp on his end table next to Heero on the couch to watch. But that didn't mean that the interesting and somewhat pleasing revelation that Quatre _had_ still been going over to Trowa's house on a daily basis -- surreptitiously, even -- wasn't a little on his mind until nearly halfway through the movie.


	69. Part 68

Trowa came to visit Duo on Sunday morning, and, though Heero took almost no part in their conversation, still he watched the two of them like a hawk. He saw exactly what Duo had been talking about a week ago: Trowa was definitely more animated, apparently more happy, than he had been earlier in their acquaintance; and the quiet bitterness that Heero remembered as underlying everything Trowa said seemed diminished, at least slightly. Quatre had that effect on people. 

If Heero was any judge, Trowa was also trying to bring himself to tell Duo something specific -- and if Heero _was_ any judge, he knew exactly what this was. Trowa never quite got it out, however, and Heero couldn't even be very annoyed at him for it. Though he couldn't really comprehend falling out of love with Duo once in, it was not logically impossible to believe that after eighty-seven years of separation Trowa's feelings had changed... and if Heero thought _he_ would have a hard time telling Duo this, it must seem even more difficult for Trowa himself. 

Oddly enough, this actually made Heero like Trowa a little better. That neither of them had the guts to say what needed to be said to poor Duo was pathetic, but that their mutual desire was to avoid hurting Duo -- especially now that Heero knew they weren't rivals -- could only bring them closer. 

Heero watched Duo too, and not to any particularly pleasant enlightenment. Duo was consistently gentler and more serious with Trowa; it wasn't that he completely abandoned the more energetic and fun aspects of his personality, but rather that he toned them down as if specifically in response to Trowa's general solemnity. He didn't tease Trowa; he didn't flirt with Trowa; he hardly even made jokes. While Heero could understand that this was possibly the best way to deal with Trowa, he didn't like to see Duo feeling that he couldn't be himself around someone -- especially someone he loved -- for whatever reason. 

Trowa looked discernibly surprised when Heero smiled at him as he left. Heero doubted Trowa had any illusions about what Heero's attitude toward him had been thus far, which was unfortunate... the guy was Heero's best friend's boyfriend; things shouldn't be prickly between them. 

"He's definitely getting better," Duo said with satisfaction, looking after Trowa at the door in the wall. "He was so miserable and... kinda _dead_ before... he seems a lot happier now. I'm really glad." 

Heero nodded. 

"OK, now Star Wars!" Duo had invited Trowa to watch the remaining five movies with them, but Trowa had declined the offer with disinterest that verged on horror. "Time to find out more about the stupid kid and the obnoxious floppy guy!" 

"Let me grab breakfast first," said Heero in some amusement, and then yawned. "You two and your early weekend hours..." 

"Hey, I am a _sleeper-in_ when I can actually sleep." Duo delivered this announcement proudly, as if it were a serious accomplishment, which made Heero laugh a little. "Course that might have changed; I don't know. And also it might just have been because I had insomnia most nights and couldn't fall asleep in the first place until forever late." 

"You had chronic insomnia when you _could_ sleep, and then you got cursed so that you _couldn't_ sleep?" Heero wondered in severe pity. "That doesn't seem fair." 

"Welcome to the world of curses," Duo replied, and Heero could tell without looking down that he was rolling his eyes. "But believe me: once I'm human, I am _never_ going to have a problem sleeping again, I swear to god." 

It didn't take long for Duo to start making fun of the second Star Wars episode as cheerfully as he had the first last night. And just like the first last night, Heero thought he was enjoying the second; he wondered what Duo would make of the original trilogy once they got there. 

Near the end of _Revenge of the Sith_, Heero's mother called. It was just another family dinner invitation, but it didn't come without some leading questions and meaningful remarks. Quatre really did seem to be her greatest fear, and Relena's roommate Lindsay her greatest hope. Heero couldn't help grimacing a bit as he pleaded a prior engagement on the night she wanted him over, and navigated the treacherous rapids of her meddlesome homophobia not entirely without mishap. 

Originally he had turned the volume on the TV down somewhat so Duo could keep watching, but when he noticed that Duo seemed to be paying more attention to his phone conversation (despite being unable to understand it), he paused the movie entirely. The doll was making frustrated noises as he listened to Heero, and it seemed a little sad that Duo, hearing only half of the discussion and comprehending none of it, could nevertheless tell what its mood was. 

When Heero was finally free of his mother for the moment, he flopped back down onto the couch with a sigh. Relena was right: he needed a boyfriend. Unfortunately, the one he had in mind was in love with someone else. 

"Man," Duo grumbled, "for someone who likes to fix things as much as you do, you sure are taking your time fixing this thing with your family." 

This really wasn't what Heero wanted to hear, especially when he'd been expecting sympathy. "What?" 

"I've seen you at work," said Duo knowingly. "You _love_ figuring out what's wrong with stuff and making it right. You get _excited_ about it. Sure, you _act_ all annoyed when you find something someone's done wrong, but then you jump all over fixing it." 

"So?" the impatient Heero wondered. "What does that have to do with my family?" 

"Well, your parents are being jerks to you for no good reason, and--" 

Heero broke in irritably. "And I should be doing something to 'fix' that, should I?" 

"You're certainly putting up with it more nicely than _I_ would." 

"And what would _you_ do?" 

"Tell them what's going on! If your mom wants to hook you up with some girl, or wants you to get rid of your car, or whatever, put your foot down! Tell her it's not going to happen, and she needs to stop wasting both your time!" 

"Yeah, well, sometimes, with your mother, you can't be as blunt as you'd like." 

"You can if she's being a bitch." 

"Duo!" Heero was on his feet again in his growing annoyance. "You can't say things like that about someone's mother!" 

"But she's _hurting_ you," Duo protested. "She's being pushy and unfair, and _you're_ suffering for it." 

"That doesn't mean I'm going to start saying awful things to her." 

"Well, maybe it should! If that's what it takes to get her to stop being so evil to you." 

"That's what it would take to get her to stop talking to me entirely!" 

"That's her loss, then!" 

"Duo..." Heero ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "These are my _parents_ we're talking about. I'm not just going to... _throw them away_... because they're being unreasonable." 

"What is people's _deal_ about parents?" Duo sounded every bit as exasperated as Heero. "Why would you put up with bullshit you wouldn't take from anyone else just because it's coming from your parents?" 

Heero gave a frustrated noise and strode out of the room. Of course this gesture didn't mean quite so much when he took Duo with him, but it was effective nonetheless. He went out onto the balcony into a light rain, and there he stood in silence, holding Duo on the railing. 

What really rankled was that, to a large extent, Duo was right: Heero _did_ put up with treatment from his parents that he wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. But it was more complicated than Duo made it sound; there was no simple algorithm for dealing with your parents, and no instruction manual on how to fix an uncomfortable family situation. 

"I guess it's a little counterproductive of me," Duo said at last, quietly, "to be a jerk to you about your parents being jerks to you." 

Heero laughed faintly. "I may put up with a little too much sometimes." 

"And I never had parents, so I have no idea what I'm talking about with this stuff anyway." 

Heero stood silently for several more seconds, thinking about various things and becoming quite damp. The thought that kept coming back, even in the midst of his reflections about his parents and what could and couldn't be done, was one that demanded to be spoken aloud. So, eventually and rather gruffly, he said, "It's nice to know you care. Just... don't call my mother a bitch." 

"Yeah, that was out of line. I'm sorry." 

Heero's specific annoyance with Duo had already mostly faded, though his agitation and discontent regarding the situation they'd been discussing remained. With a sigh of frustration, he gave Duo a squeeze and retreated out of the rain. 

Neither of them said anything more until they were seated back in front of the TV, which had gone to screensaver over the paused DVD, and then it was as if there had never been any tension. 

"OK, so whiner-boy just killed his wife," Duo was saying, "and the little green guy was up to something." 

"Right," Heero agreed, rubbing rain off his hands onto his damp jeans and then reaching for the remote. And soon Anakin was on fire and Duo was laughing, and everything was (relatively) fine again.


	70. Part 69

The first day of Duo's third week as Heero's desk decoration went fairly smoothly, despite the meeting Heero had to attend in the afternoon. To this Duo rode in the pocket of Heero's slacks, his vision entirely obscured by the suit coat that fell down over and concealed him. The meeting, which was _extremely_ boring to listen to, ran late, and this kept them far enough past five o'clock that Heero didn't have to worry about encountering Totally Out Of Character Guy on the way out. That didn't mean their departure from the building was entirely encounter-free, however. 

"Yuy!" 

Duo was not at all surprised when Heero turned immediately at the hail, for the tone was so commanding, even in just those two syllables, as to leave very little room for noncompliance. 

It was the security guard, the woman with the loopy braid-things that eyed Heero like a laser sight every day when he came into or went out of the building. She'd never talked to him before in Duo's presence, but evidently curiosity had finally gotten the better of her professionalism, for now she had emerged from behind her high round desk in the entry and beckoned peremptorily to him. 

"What," Heero said. 

She didn't mince words. "Why have you been bringing that doll to work?" 

Without actually feeling it, Duo was aware of Heero's grip on him tightening. "He's a collector's item. I like having him on my desk." Again, Duo wasn't really surprised that Heero responded so readily; he had a feeling that very few people ever refused this woman anything. 

"And why do you take it home every day?" 

"So he doesn't get damaged or stolen." Heero's dogged insistence on masculine pronouns, in the face of others' use of 'it,' pleased Duo to no end. 

"Let me see it." It wasn't a request. 

Heero did only exactly as instructed, holding Duo up in a firm hand without stepping any closer, so the woman could see but not reach him. 

"First officer," said the security guard. 

Heero nodded. 

"But not Quinto." 

Into Heero's momentary confused silence Duo hissed, "Zachary Quinto played Spock in the movie, remember?" 

"Oh, no," Heero managed. "He's a role-play character." 

"Hmm," said the woman. "Has Chang seen this?" 

"Yes." Heero looked as if he would rather not have answered that one. 

She nodded sharply. It seemed to be both acknowledgment and goodbye, for without another word she turned and went back to her desk. Heero hastened to take advantage of her waning attention and make a quiet exit. 

Duo managed to stifle his laughter at first, but couldn't restrain himself any longer when Heero's first remark in the parking lot was, "I feel like I've joined some secret nerd society, and now I'm finding out who all the other members are." 

"Well, at least _she_ didn't start an argument with me through you." 

"She didn't have to! Did you see the look she gave you? She might as well just have come out and said I'm not a true fan because you're in the wrong uniform." 

Again Duo laughed. "Do you think she and that other guy are secret lovers??" 

Now Heero too gave a laugh, his somewhat startled. "No!" 

"Aw, why not?" 

"Because I can't picture either one of them dating anyone!" 

"Well, that's what makes them perfect for each other!" 

It was raining, but Heero hadn't bothered with an umbrella for the relatively short distance across the parking lot. He did duck into his car in something of a hurry, though, and shake water off his messy hair in a manner that Duo found most adorable. 

Duo had no physical urges at this point, of course, and even the remembered urges had long since ceased to manifest, but that didn't stop him from feeling, not infrequently, a strong impulse to do things like kiss Heero, squeeze Heero, or snuggle Heero into oblivion. Thinking about how Heero would probably react if he did any of these (in any form) was depressing, so he tried not to. Sometimes, though, especially at night when Heero was lying there in bed all relaxed and pretty and often shirtless, Duo couldn't help but daydream. And this reminded him... 

"I keep thinking about what we were talking about the other day..." They were in the apartment by now, walking down the hall toward Heero's bedroom, and Heero's immediate stiffening at these words would have been hard to miss. Duo, realizing what he might be thinking, hastened on. "I mean, about sleeping and insomnia and stuff. You know what I wish I had?" 

"What?" Heero set Duo down at the end of the dresser and went to change. 

"A bed." 

From the closet Heero asked, "Like, a Barbie bed? That sort of thing?" 

"Yeah, or whatever," Duo verbally shrugged. "Something that looks like a bed and that's small enough for me." There was no comment from the closet, and Duo wanted to shout into it, _"Dammit, this is why I love you, Heero Yuy! I say, 'I want a bed,' and you **don't** say, 'But you can't sleep!'"_ But he decided against it. Instead he gave the explanation Heero hadn't even asked for. "I know I can't sleep, but I was thinking... I might as well pretend, right? Feel a little like a real person again?" 

"Well, just so you know," Heero told him very seriously, "I'm never going back onto that Barbie aisle at Wal-Mart or into a big toy store again in my life. But we can look online." 

"Can we?" Duo beamed. "Did I mention you're my hero?" 

Heero seemed to be smiling as he warned, "I'm not promising anything. You _are_ aware they'll all be pink, right?" 

"Pff, like anyone knows that better than I do." 

They _were_ all pink. They were also significantly overpriced. Actually most of the beds they found were collector's pieces that Duo recognized from previous decades, and the sellers were looking for compensation in triple digits. 

"I could get an _actual_ bed for this much," Heero protested as the third page of search results brought only higher and higher prices. "I'm sorry, Duo, this is just not going to happen." 

Trying to hide how disappointed he was at this utterly insignificant setback, Duo laughed. "Well, whatever. It's not like I really need it." 

"Well, I've got one more idea." Heero pulled up another window or whatever they were called and started setting up an email. _Duo wants a bed_, he typed. _Any chance any of your sisters had a doll bed and left it behind when they moved out? I know you have an entire antique shop in your attic. And before I forget, are you going to get us the 4th off? I'm sure we're going to need it._

"Aww, you guys are going to take even more time off for us?" Duo said as Heero sent the email and set the computer to shutting down. 

"We may need more time than just that one day, too," Heero replied, "but after that whole week off we can't really take a lot more." 

"But that week was what got me my elbows!" 

Heero, who'd picked Duo up and was heading out into the living room, was obviously smiling as he agreed with this. "I'm not complaining, and it didn't cause any problems at work, but too much more and it will. But we'll probably all be up half the night on the third, and we'll have a lot to think about on the fourth." 

"Like how to keep Trowa from going completely crazy if this doesn't work!" 

"And on _that_ pleasant note..." Heero muttered. 

"Let's read some Oz!" Duo finished for him. When Heero made a noise like a baffled and somewhat horrified laugh he added, "No use worrying about it now, right?" 

Heero seemed to hesitate for a moment before agreeing, "Right." 

Before any reading could take place, Heero had to find himself some dinner, and the time he spent messing around in the kitchen passed in relatively comfortable silence as Duo stood in his pocket and pondered. 

The implication with which he'd inadvertently alarmed Heero earlier hadn't, in fact, been untrue: he hadn't yet stopped dwelling on their little argument yesterday -- or, rather, on the way Heero had behaved: he'd been annoyed and offended, and yet had not given even the slightest hint of wanting to take it out on Duo. He'd stalked out of the room in irritation, yet had picked Duo up without even a trace of hesitation. 

Of course Duo didn't believe that Heero would actually give up or even jeopardize the progress they'd made toward the full curse-breaking month, but he would neither have been surprised nor accusatory if Heero had at least thought about it. But it didn't seem even to have crossed Heero's mind, and at this Duo was impressed and touched. 

He also still thought Heero should deal with his mom a lot more aggressively, but he wasn't going to say so again.


	71. Part 70

  


Quatre's kiss of greeting on Tuesday evening was brief; immediately thereafter he took Trowa's hand and said, "Come with me." 

Though Trowa was still wary of such ambivalent requests, whenever Quatre smiled at him now he was reminded of that first, seemingly angelic smile he'd woken up to last Saturday morning. He trusted Quatre, and would follow him without too much reluctance. He paused, though, long enough to ask, "Do I need shoes?" 

"Not if you don't want them. We're just going into my house." 

"Where in your house?" Trowa, eschewing the trouble of locating socks since it could be avoided, was following him again, through the front door into Quatre's bedroom, but his tone was suspicious. 

Quatre sounded amused as he answered. "Heero emailed me yesterday and said Duo wants a bed. So we get to look through the attic to see if one of my sisters ever left a doll bed up there." 

"Why does Duo want a bed?" wondered the bemused Trowa as Quatre opened his bedroom door. Admittedly it did sound like a request Duo would make: something he couldn't really use now and would have absolutely _no_ use for once he was human, but which would make a statement. 

Quatre shrugged. "Heero didn't say." 

They'd come out onto a large landing off of which a number of doors opened and down from which a grand staircase curved past a tall bay window to a lower level. The walls were covered with the same wood paneling as in Quatre's room, and a couple of blown-up photos in old ornate frames broke up the resultantly wide dark spaces. Cheerful voices -- children's voices, he thought -- came from somewhere, and Trowa could hear footsteps both above and below. 

As Quatre led him through a door across from his own into a hallway full of more doors and a smaller flight of stairs upward, Trowa asked, "How much of your family actually lives here?" Quatre had talked quite a bit about his family, but Trowa realized he had very little concept of where they all were. 

"My parents, of course," Quatre answered, leading him up the stairs. "My third sister and her husband and kids -- you'll probably see the kids up here. My seventh sister's still here too -- she runs HR at our downtown office -- and she's got a friend (who also works for us) who's staying here for the moment. Then there's my eighth sister's ex-girlfriend who's renting a room. She works for us too." 

"So that's... eight adults? And how many of them work for your father's company?" The family business was something else Quatre sometimes mentioned, but never very specifically. 

Quatre laughed. "Oh, most of them. We're all about nepotism around here." 

On the next landing up, there were indeed three children playing -- boys, two perhaps nine and the other maybe eleven -- and as Quatre and Trowa appeared they went still and silent, watching. Trowa was used to being stared at by children -- it happened just about every time he went out in public -- and was ready to walk by without a word, but Quatre stopped. 

"Hey, guys, what are you up to?" 

"Playing Batman," answered the oldest boy. 

"Cool; who's Batman?" 

"We're taking turns." The somewhat surly tone in which this was spoken suggested that the idea to take turns at the lead role had been passed down from some higher authority. 

By certain aspects of their faces Trowa had already guessed which two of the three were related to Quatre before Quatre pointed them out. "These are my favorite nephews Isaac and Cameron. Guys, this is Trowa." 

Trowa nodded stiffly at the children, who just stared back at him. Finally one of them -- he thought it was the one called Isaac -- addressed a question to Quatre. "Is he your _boyfriend_?" 

Smiling, Quatre nodded. 

"So that means you _kiss_ him?" 

"It sure does." 

"On the _mouth_?" 

"Yep." 

The kid's face twisted into a very comical expression of what he thought of this, and Quatre laughed. Even Trowa couldn't say he was too terribly disturbed; he didn't remember 1907 very well, but he was under the impression that this was a fairly typical nine-year-old reaction to romance of any kind. 

Turning away from the boys, who were now muttering to each other in a huddle (the visiting friend in particular seemed agitated, and kept looking back over his shoulder at the adults), Quatre shifted his attention to a trap door in the ceiling. With a pensive frown he reached up for it, but was a few inches short of the handle even when he stood on tiptoe. Trowa watched his attempts with enjoyment for a moment or two before moving to assist with his greater height. 

The door opened, with some effort as it was old and stiff, into a fold-down ladder staircase, and above was a black rectangle from which a cool draft descended. Quatre climbed first, followed by Trowa, to the sound of silence from the landing below. Only once they were standing on the attic floor, and presumably invisible to the kids, did Batman's adventures resume. 

In the darkness Quatre chuckled. Pulling Trowa to him, he murmured, "On the _mouth_," before kissing him soundly as prescribed. 

"You didn't warn me I'd be meeting family members," Trowa remonstrated when Quatre released him and began shuffling around searching for something. 

"I thought you could handle some of the smaller ones." Quatre found the switch he'd been looking for, and a number of light bulbs hanging bare and free at intervals across the room suddenly came on. 

Given what he knew about Quatre, Trowa was rather surprised to find the attic a highly disorganized graveyard of past decades. Stacks of furniture and boxes, littered with a baffling miscellany of smaller items, divided up a space that appeared larger than Trowa's entire house; little paths wound their way through as in a maze, and in the distance the wasteland of abandoned personal possessions faded almost into darkness where a light bulb had burned out. 

Quatre shook his head with a slight frown. Evidently he didn't think much of the organizational skills of his predecessors either. Still, he waded in cheerfully enough. 

"When was this house built?" Trowa asked, looking with bittersweet interest at this jumble of artifacts from various eras he himself had lived through. 

"1887, but it's only been in the family since the 40's." Quatre began walking slowly away from the trap door, eyeing the piles of items to either side. "There's a lot of interesting stuff up here, and I bet you'll recognize some of it." He gestured. "Probably that corner's a good place to start; I remember seeing some more recent things over there. Just look around for anything pink." 

"Pink?" 

"Well, if we find anything Duo can use, it'll be a Barbie something... so it'll definitely be pink." 

Trowa nodded, and, to a certain extent, obeyed. Mostly, however, he was mentally placing the objects around him in their appropriate time periods as far as he remembered how they should fit. He ran his finger around the rim of a large ceramic pot, which had once probably held a plant but now housed something crumpled and velvet (and a spider); lifted the lid on an old pressure cooker (harvest gold with brown flowers) to find a matching smaller dish of some sort inside; set rocking slightly a dusty carved chair on which rested a cardboard box full of photos, all black and white; and nearly knocked over a folded crib that stood against a tall wooden filing cabinet with peeling grey paint. 

There was, he had to admit, some fascination and nostalgia to this... but as he continued looking, he found himself sinking into an ever-increasing melancholy under the weight of so many chilly, accusatory years. It was strange and not terribly pleasant to be reminded by a house other than his own of all the time that had stood still for both him and Duo because of what he'd done. Eventually he was simply staring down at a lidless pencil box full of baseball cards without really seeing it, feeling almost numb. 

"Oh, here are some toys!" Quatre's triumphant voice drifted across and into Trowa's unpleasant reverie. Trowa looked up and over in his direction, but on the way there his eyes were caught and held. His breath was the next to catch. 

On top of a couple of old boxes, beside some kind of arrangement of dusty fake flowers in a dusty basket, was a faded catalog from perhaps sixty years ago. The whole world seemed to go silent as Trowa reached for it: the sounds of Quatre rummaging a few yards away, the boys' voices from downstairs, the footsteps from other parts of the house, even the air moving around him -- all vanished for a moment, and only came rushing back with a sort of boom as his fingertips made contact with the brittle old paper. He heard his own voice saying, in what seemed an inaudible whisper against the sudden roar of returning sound, "Quatre." 

There must have been something unusual to his tone, for Quatre immediately stopped what he was doing and came over. "What is it?" 

Trowa couldn't tear his eyes away from the object now clutched tightly in his hands, nor could he say another word. 

Quatre moved to stand beside him and look at the catalog. "Oh, yeah," he said in a tone of recognition. "We don't do consumer manufacture anymore, but we used to have a line of direct products. These days we just sell materials to manufacturers." 

The words washed over Trowa like an incomprehensible tide, and the only thing that really stuck with him was Quatre's repeated use of 'we.' Finally Trowa managed to choke out the company name from the catalog's face: "Raberba-Winner Plastics and Manufacturing?" 

"Yeah..." Quatre seemed curious and perhaps a little concerned at Trowa's demeanor. "It didn't change to 'Winner Plastics' until '77. It started out as--" 

"Raberba Manufacturing," Trowa whispered. And he sank to his knees on the hard floor.


	72. Part 71

In some alarm Quatre crouched down beside Trowa, who was kneeling limply on the floor and clutching the old catalog to his chest in much the same way he had held Duo when they'd been reunited -- and, Quatre noticed with a start, he was shedding tears now just as he had then. 

"Trowa! What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Trowa replied with surprising haste, and repeated, "Nothing..." Continuing the trend, his tone was very similar to the one Quatre had only ever heard from him when he'd been talking to Duo that first evening. 

Settling onto his knees and putting an arm across Trowa's bent shoulders, Quatre made an inquisitive noise and then forced himself to wait patiently to be enlightened. 

Trowa brushed moisture from his face with one hand, which subsequently smeared dust in a muddy line across his cheek. "It's all going to be all right," he said, and not only were the unusually positive words unexpected, but so was the tone: it was one of absolute certainty, something Quatre hadn't thought Trowa felt about anything pleasant in this world. 

"Is it?" 

"This is a sign." Trowa finally released his tight embrace of the catalog and let it sink to his lap, his eyes still fixed on it. "The curse will break. It's going to work." 

"Because of this catalog?" 

"Raberba Manufacturing. That was the factory I worked at in 1922 and '23. That was where this all started. And now with you I've found the same company again. I had no idea it even still existed, but here I've come back around to it. To where I started. It's a complete cycle." 

While Quatre supposed he could to some extent see the logic in this, and the circumstance certainly was interesting, it wasn't something from which _he_ would have drawn any particular hope. But he would rather die than rain on this unexpected parade. "That's wonderful," he said, hugging Trowa tightly. 

Trowa twisted to return the embrace, sandwiching the catalog between them. "The curse will break," he repeated. 

"You've never really believed it would, have you?" 

Against Quatre's shoulder, Trowa shook his head. Quatre held him tighter. 

After some time, during which they simply sat in silence and Trowa's grip did not loosen, Trowa finally sat back and stared at the catalog again. He wasn't smiling, but there was an intense, focused look of profound pleasure and relief in his face that took Quatre's breath away. Trowa was so often unsure and unhappy... in this unusual moment of the precise opposite, he was more beautiful than ever. He was, Quatre thought, going to be consistently, absolutely stunning once he recovered all his vanished confidence and enjoyment of life. And Quatre was determined to help him do so in any way he could. 

"I lost my job there eventually," Trowa murmured, as if continuing a narrative. "I was looking for Duo so obsessively, I couldn't pay attention to work any longer. And after I left the city, I didn't even think about the company again for years. But eventually I realized how important a part of all this it had been: plastic wasn't a common thought back then... if I hadn't been working at a plastics factory specifically, if I hadn't had the idea of 'plastic' in my head because of the kind of business I was in, the nature of the curse would have been totally different. But since it _was_... and here, after everything, your company is still in plastics..." He finally looked up at Quatre and smiled. 

Quatre took his hand and squeezed it, returning the smile. He still wasn't certain why Trowa didn't take these circumstances as a portent of, for example, the whole thing starting all over again, but perhaps this was something a non-magician couldn't be expected to understand -- and he wasn't complaining. 

Unexpectedly, Trowa raised a hand to Quatre's face, leaned forward, and kissed him. There was no hesitance, no sluggishness in the movement, and simultaneously it seemed less desperate and fearful than Trowa's kisses had up until now; it felt more _real_, somehow, than any time Quatre's lips had been against Trowa's before. Then Trowa released him and murmured, "Thank you for bringing me here." 

That kiss had left Quatre somewhat stunned, so it was a moment before he managed in a tone of almost giddy breathlessness, "Thank Duo; he's the one who wanted the bed." 

"Yes!" Trowa got suddenly to his feet, moving with an energy Quatre had rarely seen in him. "We still need to find that." 

Quatre joined him standing and took his free hand. "This way," he said. 

"May I keep this?" Trowa held up the catalog. 

"Of course!" Quatre smiled. 

Among the promising items he had located there was indeed a dollhouse, Barbie-sized but off-brand, that was protected by a trash bag and hidden behind some other toys. Quatre thought he recognized it as having belonged to at least three of his sisters in turn; it had to be more than thirty years old, and appeared quite well-used. Many of the walls had been decorated with stickers to cover the faded wallpaper, and there were doors and shutters missing here and there. 

It was also full of furniture, all jumbled together from the whole ensemble having been carried up here inside a trash bag. Some of this was Mattel, and some of it seemed to have come with the house; the latter was mostly blue and purple and seemed to be the sturdier of the two options, but the pink Barbie bed was the only one to have a blanket and pillows. 

"I guess this will have to do," Quatre said, extracting it from among the mess and glancing through the rest of the little house again just in case an extra pillow had come free from the rubber band holding the bedding to the bed. 

Trowa took it from him and examined it. "I suppose," he said a little doubtfully. 

Quatre laughed. "I don't think there's any particular function it needs to fulfill besides looking like a bed. Let's take it to him!" 

The way Trowa brightened at this suggestion was delightful to see. And, though he didn't exactly _smile_ at Quatre's nephews and their friend on the way down, the look he gave them was a good deal more amiable and open than the one he'd given them on the way up. 

It felt a little strange to walk through Trowa's front door, close it, and then open it again onto Heero's apartment. After that, though, Quatre's mood shifted to one of slight guilt as he realized that this was the first time he'd been in here in longer than he could remember off the top of his head. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a relationship and rather lost track of the rest of the world; Heero knew what was going on, and knew this tendency of his... but still Quatre felt like he'd abandoned his friend. He could only hope Heero was also distracted by a new relationship and wouldn't be annoyed with him. This was something he really should have _known_, rather than having to hope and guess about, but, again, he hadn't been paying attention. Well, now he could find out. 

Heero and Duo were in the kitchen, one apparently making himself dinner and the other apparently entertaining the first. Quatre, who had always been of the opinion that Heero needed to laugh more, smiled when he heard him doing so in response to whatever Duo was saying. Perhaps things were indeed going well over here. 

"We brought you a present, Duo!" Quatre announced as he joined them. 

Duo, who was seated beside the microwave, waved his arms around excitedly. "Really? What is it??" 

Following Quatre into the kitchen (which as a consequence was rather crowded), Trowa set the little bed wordlessly on the counter beside Duo. 

Seeing this, Duo flat-out yelled (not that it was particularly loud), "Yeah! Oh, awesome!" And he kicked his legs and waved his arms until he fell over onto his side. Even then, though, he laughed and struggled to get back up until Trowa reached out and righted him. 

In contrast to Duo's extreme joy, Heero just looked quietly pleased. Quatre raised an eyebrow at him in silent query and glanced at the doll. Smile fading, Heero shook his head minutely. Quatre was instantly curious, but not about to ask in company. 

"Look at the giant lace around the pillows!" Duo was saying gleefully. He ran a hand stiffly across part of the bed. "Heero, look at this! Isn't this one of the ones that was going for a million dollars on Amazon?" 

Heero bent to examine the object. "I think you're right." 

Duo turned his grinning face toward first Trowa and then Quatre; as usual, the movement was rather disconcerting, but his apparent happiness somewhat negated the effect. "Where did this come from?" 

"My attic," Quatre volunteered, also grinning. 

"Oh, Quatre, I looooooove you!" Duo went on exultantly before anyone could say anything else, "I am so going to little girl it up tonight: pretend the _doll_ is _sleeping_ in the _bed_!" 

Everyone laughed except Trowa, but even he was smiling. 

"Seriously, though -- thanks, guys." Duo looked at them both again, beaming. 

"Have you two eaten?" Heero asked. "I was about to make something, if you want to stay." 

Quatre was about to reply that, _yes_, they wanted to stay (though he wouldn't have added that the reason was so he could watch Heero and Duo and try to figure out what the hell was going on), but checked and looked at Trowa instead; he _assumed_ Trowa wouldn't mind, but figured he'd let him answer for himself. 

Seeing Quatre's look, Trowa gave a slight nod and turned toward Heero. 

"Thank you," he said in that formal way he sometimes had. "That would be very nice."


	73. Part 72

  


"But everyone seems to despise him, for some reason. I even saw him voted 'most hated video game character' on one forum." 

It was Wednesday, and, excepting some minor system issues that IT was working frantically to fix, rather slow. Usually such a day was the time for everyone to catch up on paperwork and processing, but of course Wufei had no such intention. The problem was that he was too damn good at his job and always on top of his paperwork. 

"I believe it's all because of the rumors about the expansion. They don't dislike him for any other, legitimate reason." 

This was Wufei's third visit to Heero, who didn't even know what he was talking about this time. 

"But he's gone through so much; he's had very believable character growth. People say he's too hot-headed, or that he has no actual motivations, but I disagree on both counts." 

How had this started, anyway? Oh, yes, Heero's comment on Wufei's tie (which, he realized in retrospect, had been a grave mistake) had led Wufei to talk about some costume he was making, and this somehow (unsurprisingly) had segued into a lot of unnecessary information about the character he would be dressing as. 

"He has a much more believable viewpoint than Thrall -- believable from an orc perspective, that is. Too many players are thinking like humans; that's their problem." 

And Heero didn't even have the benefit of Duo's opinion, since Wufei had once picked the doll up. He was looking forward to whatever Duo would have to say when Wufei was gone, though. Assuming Heero could ever get rid of him. 

"He's still _my_ favorite NPC, and I believe he'll be a very effective leader." 

The biggest problem was that, although Heero was ostensibly parallel to Dorothy in rank, he wasn't equipped with disciplinary options that weren't more trouble for him than they were worth. Usually this wasn't an issue, since it wasn't his job to keep an eye on the people around him in that capacity, and Dorothy was usually there anyway -- but today she was, like most of the sales staff, buried in catch-up work. 

"I'll be sure to bring in pictures once I get the costume done... though maybe I'll wait for The Surgery." 

Oh, yes, of course, The Surgery. 

"Maybe wear it in on Halloween?" Heero murmured, without much hope. 

"Oh, I should have The Surgery before then... I'll just bring in pictures." 

_And I'll have to look at them_, Heero despaired. 

"Though I still haven't decided what to do about the tusks." 

"There may be a surgery for that too." 

Wufei took him seriously. "Yes, I've considered that. I don't believe it would be convenient." 

"No, probably not." 

"Did I tell you I got an estimate for the other one, though?" Before Heero could answer this, however -- assuming he was even able to think of an answer that wouldn't utterly destroy what little professional relationship they had -- Wufei went on hurriedly, "Well, I'll tell you about it later." Then he turned on his heel and left the cubicle. A moment later Dorothy walked by. 

"Is he getting his testicles removed?" Duo wondered. "I didn't think most veterinarians would do that to a human." 

Heero bent over and buried his face in his arms on the desk. He wasn't used to restraining uproarious laughter, simply because the impulse almost never came over him, so he wasn't nearly as good at such restraint as most people would have assumed. His shoulders shook and his head spun, and he was sure that some sound was escaping his lips, for all his efforts. Tears were _definitely_ running from his eyes. 

Duo seemed to be trying his best to keep a straight face (figuratively speaking, of course), but it wasn't working. Also he sounded pleased (if a little startled) that he'd made Heero laugh so hard, and it was several very long moments before either of them was able to stop. 

Finally Duo said, "So if he's not getting neutered, what Surgery is this that he has to assign capital letters to?" 

Heero still hadn't entirely recovered, but he managed to choke out, "It's a surgery to... to give him pointy ears. He's been... he's been talking about having it done as long as he's worked here... nobody believes anymore that he's actually ever going to do it." 

"Whaaat?" Duo started laughing again, more heartily this time. "Seriously?" 

Heero could only nod. 

"Oh, I'm so going to get a job here," Duo sighed when he'd calmed down a little -- though he was still chuckling -- "and mess with that guy all day long." 

"Be my guest," Heero replied. He noticed then that he'd received an email sometime in the last few minutes, and, still laughing somewhat, turned his attention toward the computer. He was loath to open it, though, when he saw that it was from Quatre and had no subject line; he didn't want to spoil the excellent mood he was suddenly in -- but an email from someone that was simultaneously his best friend and his manager was not something he could ignore. 

_So what page are we all on?_ Quatre wondered. _What's going on with you and Duo? Does he know about me and Trowa? It's hard to tell, but it seemed like he was giving us funny looks last night._

Heero hadn't really wanted to explain this, even to his best friend, but felt now that he had to. Stifling a sigh, he set up a reply and thought about what to say. Finally he forced himself to type, _Duo is still in love with Trowa. I haven't told him about you two. I don't want to hurt him. I haven't decided what to do yet._ Then he forced himself to send the message immediately. Usually he liked to proofread things a few times beforehand, but knew he would talk himself out of disclosing his personal thoughts if he did that now. 

The answer came almost immediately: _Are you sure?_

_No, I'm not,_ Heero responded. _That makes it worse._

_Do you want me to talk to him?_

Heero smiled bitterly. It was just like Quatre to offer that: kind-hearted and officious. _Thank you, but no,_ he emailed back. _I'll take care of it._

_Make sure you do!_ Quatre returned. _I'm getting us the 4th off, and I've got some great ideas about what you and Duo could spend that day doing... but that won't work if you haven't resolved this. I know what I'll be spending that day on._

Heero snorted, and replied, _I bet you do._

"Stupid emails?" Duo wondered, hearing him. 

Heero looked down at the doll, and was struck once again with the idea, suggested by Duo's comment, of Wufei having his testicles removed in order to dress up as a _World of Warcraft_ character. He felt a grin spreading across his face again, and it only widened when Duo returned it. Heero was surprised and delighted to find Duo capable of putting him into a cheerful frame of mind tenacious enough to last through an uncomfortable reminder of a problem he had with Duo himself. He couldn't help thinking that to have Duo around in the long-term could only make him consistently happier. Well, depending on the context. 

"So tell me everything you plan on doing to Wufei as soon as you work here," he said.


	74. Part 73

  


"Do you like dogs?" 

Appearing a little surprised at the question, Trowa looked up at the newly-arrived Quatre. "I suppose so," he said. 

"Good. Come with me. You'll need shoes this time." 

Today Trowa just smiled and stood from where he'd been sitting at his table with a book and some notes in front of him. He seemed actually to have been working, which was good; but Quatre liked the smile and the immediate compliance even better. 

As Trowa went into the next room to don shoes and contact lenses, Quatre followed him and explained. "Usually I play with the dogs after work every day, but lately..." 

Trowa made a noise of comprehension. 

"My dad pointed out earlier that I've been neglecting them. It's not exactly my _responsibility_ to take care of them, but pretty much nobody else ever does since I always do. So now I feel really bad." Because the dogs, unlike Heero, didn't understand about very engrossing new relationships. 

"So nobody's been feeding them?" Trowa wondered, sounding a little startled. 

"Oh, no! Darryl feeds them; they've always got food and water. Just nobody's been paying much attention to them." 

As they made their way into Quatre's house and thence outside, he explained further about the family dog tradition. "Each of us got a turn to choose one, usually for our tenth birthday. It could be any breed as long as it was an outdoor dog, and since we were all spoiled rotten it didn't matter how expensive it was to get. Most of the time my sisters took theirs with them when they left, but not all of them are still alive. The dogs, I mean -- the first one would have been about thirty years ago." 

When this house had been built, it was practically in the middle of nowhere, quite a few miles from the nearest town; evidently the original owner had been a bit of a recluse. The town had grown gradually into a city, and expanded so that its suburban edges were not far from this estate, and these days a few other large properties had come to surround the Winners'; but the area was still a county rather than a city zone, and nothing had ever forced the property lines inward -- and therefore what some might call yards were by others still referred to as 'the grounds.' And despite having visited four floors of the house and seen its entry hall, small dining room, butler's pantry, and kitchen, still Trowa glanced around in some surprise when they emerged through the back door and looked out over the yard. 

"I used to attend parties at places like this," he murmured, his eyes tracing the flagstone paths around the edges of the neat lawn and the long strips of garden that lined the tall iron fence surrounding the property. 

"Does it bother you to remember?" 

"Only a little." And though his smile was wan, it was the second one Quatre had gotten from him that day. Quatre squeezed Trowa's hand, then pulled him down the path between the sandbox and the kitchen garden and onto the lawn, where he whistled. 

Cairo was a tired old Canaan dog that rarely hurried anywhere anymore and thus was outpaced and quickly overtaken in the race around the house by Scrat. The latter, a hyper little beagle, was a fairly recent acquisition, having been chosen less than a year before by Quatre's nephew Cameron, who never played with her. Scrat didn't seem to resent this, mostly because she didn't seem to resent anything: she loved everyone and everything with an energetic impartiality that consistently annoyed the calmer and more selective Cairo. 

Now Scrat came wiggling up to Quatre, whining and occasionally leaping into the air in her excitement. Quatre was able to scratch her all over, worry her ears, and tell her what a good girl she was before Cairo caught up. Then he turned his attention to the Canaan while Scrat turned hers toward Trowa. 

Cairo had the dignity of a cat, and always greeted Quatre with a solemnity that seemed barely able to admit any pleasure. Only the fact that, by contrast, he was utterly aloof and indifferent to everyone _besides_ Quatre kept his human from sadly believing that the pet he had personally chosen and named didn't like him at all. Today Cairo's look seemed to be one of reproof, too, as if demanding to know why Quatre had been absent from the back yard for so long. 

"I'm sorry!" Quatre told him, rubbing his head and neck and back. He found as he did so that Scrat was jumping around him again, which was a little surprising as Quatre would have assumed she couldn't possibly be finished getting acquainted with Trowa yet. Quatre turned to her and said, "Where's your ball? Can you get your ball?" Excitedly Scrat ran off, while Cairo moved to investigate Trowa. 

"This is Cairo," Quatre introduced them. "He's a Canaan dog. He's usually not very friendly to most people..." Quatre had intended to end that sentence there, but Cairo, as his head and flank were petted, was unexpectedly leaning against Trowa in evident approval. So Quatre went on fairly smoothly, "But he's got good taste. Good boy, Cairo!" 

At this point Scrat came flying back with her ball, which Quatre had to wrestle from her mouth. Then he threw it overarm as far out as he could across the lawn, and he, Trowa, and Cairo stood still watching the beagle run after it. And as she raced off, bounding erratically across the grass, missed the ball, skidded, backtracked, got it half into her mouth and then dropped it, picked it up again, and returned at full speed, ears flopping like fuzzy wild wings, something very unusual happened. 

Trowa laughed. 

The dogs and their concerns momentarily entirely forgotten, Quatre turned to stare at his boyfriend in wonder and delight. He'd never heard him laugh before. Not once. He realized now, in fact, that he hadn't ever considered the _idea_ of Trowa laughing, as if the two concepts were just too completely incompatible to have crossed his mind at the same time. Quatre was sure that the grin on his face was one of those silly-looking childish ones he just couldn't help sometimes, because Trowa had a _wonderful_ laugh. It made Quatre want to drag him inside and up to his room and do any number of things to him. 

Scrat was whining and jumping, pushing her slobbery mouth and its slobbery burden against Quatre's leg, so he eventually forced himself to tear his eyes from Trowa and throw the ball again. But he looked back at his companion immediately he could, feeling his gaze inexorably drawn. 

Trowa was petting Cairo, who still seemed to be enjoying the attention more than he generally did. "Does this one play?" 

"He's got a rope he likes to wrestle with, but it's hard to convince him to bring it to you anymore." Quatre crouched down to Cairo's level and scratched the dog's ears. "Get your rope, Cairo," he suggested. "Go get your rope!" Cairo looked at him thoughtfully, then stood slowly and wandered away -- whether actually to find his rope or not Quatre couldn't guess. 

While Quatre was thus occupied, Trowa had been trying to get Scrat's ball from her to throw it again, but for some reason she wouldn't give it to him. She wasn't being unpleasant, but she backed away whenever he reached for her; and the moment she noticed that Quatre's attention had been freed up by Cairo's exit, she bounded over and dropped the ball at his feet, wagging her tail furiously. 

"That's weird," Quatre remarked as he picked the ball up and threw it again. "Usually Scrat likes everyone and Cairo likes no one." 

"I'm just backwards, I guess," replied Trowa. 

"You're just _adorable_, I guess." 

Trowa looked over. "Am I?" 

With a roll of eyes, Quatre sidled up to him and kissed him. He'd have hugged him too, but had been handling too much dog to want to put his hands on anyone until after some soapy water. 

Trowa was stiff against him, and looked a little embarrassed when Quatre pulled away. Perhaps he was aware of the many windows through which they could potentially be seen. Quatre grinned and turned back to Scrat. At the same time he noticed Cairo returning with his rope. 

As the beagle tore off again after the ball, Cairo came with great solemnity to sit beside Trowa, holding his rope in an aloof manner suggesting it was all the same to him whether or not he was played with. When Trowa took the other end of the rope, however, Cairo tugged and growled with his usual level of enjoyment. 

Though Cairo quickly tired of wrestling and settled down in the grass nearby, Scrat would chase her ball until she was panting and stumbling. By then it was quite dark out, and there were sounds of a lot of movement inside the house. Assuming Trowa wasn't ready for more familial introductions yet, Quatre hurried him quietly upstairs. They couldn't avoid Darryl, the cook, and he would be sure to tell everyone in the house he happened to talk to about Quatre's visitor -- the way he watched them as they went through the kitchen attested to this -- but at least he didn't detain them with questions, and they encountered no one else. 

Upstairs, Quatre ushered Trowa first into a bathroom, where they could wash their hands, and then into his bedroom, where he immediately turned upon him and immobilized him by sliding arms up over his shoulders and around his neck. 

"Even my dog likes you," he murmured. 

"Only the one," replied Trowa. "The other one wouldn't even give me the ball to throw." 

"Yeah, well... Scrat's an idiot, and she's Cameron's anyway." 

As Quatre then began to carry out his delayed reaction to Trowa's earlier laugh, all Trowa could say in response to this was, "Mmm."


	75. Part 74

  


It was one of those nights... the ones where Heero had gone to bed without a shirt on and the blanket had slipped down his chest as he slept and Duo couldn't stop staring. The only light in the room came from the half-open door that let in just a little through the glass at the end of the hall, but Duo had better night vision as a doll than he'd had as a human (whether because dolls typically had better night vision than humans, or because he'd spent enough time inside toy chests and closets to develop the skill, he didn't know). Colors were different and shapes were softened a bit, but he could make out enough details to keep him riveted. 

He was wondering about attraction, and how it worked when you happened to be a doll. 

As a human, he'd been involved exclusively with women. He'd come to the realization that he liked men only after a number of years missing Trowa, and it had been even longer before he'd ever looked at any other man with interest or attraction. By then he'd already left even his remembered physical sensations behind... so what had that attraction been based on? What had led him to look at any given man and think, _He's hot!_ (or possibly, depending on the decade, _What a sheik!_)? 

It wasn't a translation of what he'd found attractive in women, since the criteria were totally different. It couldn't have been a positive physical response, since he didn't feel those. And it couldn't have been based on a deeper interest of some kind, because he'd never been _interested_-interested in any of those guys. So it really must have been entirely visual: purely superficial aesthetic appeal. He remembered again what Trowa had said to him that black day so long ago, about being petty and fake, and he wondered, as he not infrequently did even after all these years, how true it was. 

But whatever Duo might be, his attraction to Heero was different; he was absolutely certain of that. Heero was gorgeous, of course, but Duo honestly didn't know how much of that was face and figure and how much was the fact that Duo knew him and loved his personality every bit as much as his looks. He would have found Heero handsome even if Heero hadn't been. Hell, maybe he _wasn't_, to the rest of the world, and Duo just couldn't tell. 

He couldn't even remember what he'd thought of the way Heero looked when they'd first met; perhaps he'd found him attractive, but he hadn't given it much consideration one way or another. But since that time, his appreciation for Heero's physique had grown hand-in-hand with his appreciation for everything else about Heero, and the two were now inseparable. 

Yes, there was definitely more to this than just the visual. Because Heero still -- indeed, increasingly -- made Duo yearn to _touch_ him, despite how futile it would be to do so at this point. He just wanted to be closer to him, wanted to be _with_ him in a more definitive sense. The way Heero was lying there right now, for instance -- on his back, but twisted a little in this direction, one arm up beneath his pillow -- seemed designed for Duo to curl up right against him with his head on Heero's collarbone and his hand on Heero's chest, feeling Heero's warmth and hearing his breath close by. 

He wondered what Heero _smelled_ like. 

He wondered if he could make any of this happen... if Heero would be any more interested in him once he was human... 

He sighed faintly, and his gaze strayed for a moment from his quiet companion in the bed. As it fell on his own bed -- his lovely new long, narrow bed with the rose-pattern blanket currently tucked around his legs -- he grinned. He was still excessively glad of this; he'd become an expert, in the spirit of taking what he could get, at finding pleasure in even the least significant things. Doll furniture, while it might not really do anything for him, could definitely make him happy if he allowed it to. 

This particular happiness he attributed to Heero, even though it had been Quatre and Trowa that had actually brought him the bed. Duo was almost certain they'd made some kind of date out of that, which was weird but pleased him greatly. Still, for some reason, when he looked at the little Duo-sized pillows with their excessive lace and the pink headboard, it was Heero's kindness and forbearance that came immediately to mind. 

At that moment, as Duo sat reflecting, his eye was caught by movement to his right. He looked over and down in time to see a number of hairy legs appear around the alarm clock, followed by more legs, a bunch of creepy eyes, central parts whose names Duo didn't know, and yet more legs. The spider's abrupt advent so close by startled a cry out of him, and, quiet though he was -- and three in the morning though it was -- Heero immediately awoke. 

"Whasful?" he asked as he sat halfway up. 

"Sorry," Duo said. "I didn't mean to yell." 

More coherently this time, Heero asked, "What's wrong?" 

"Just a spider." 

Heero sat up completely now, and pulled his blanket aside. "Where?" 

"Riiiiiight here, like, two inches away from me." Duo gestured to the creature, which had gone motionless in that freaky way spiders did, as if they were pondering their next victim. 

Heero stood and peered through the shadows down at the nightstand. He didn't seem able to see the spider until it moved, which it did when he picked Duo up, but then he deftly scooped it into his other hand and turned toward the door. 

"Oh, my god," Duo shuddered, "you are holding it in your bare hand." 

"If I looked for something else to put in it, it'd get away," Heero replied, yawning. He shuffled to the balcony door, which he had to open with the hand that held Duo to avoid crushing the spider, and then stepped outside. He let the spider go onto the railing, and Duo watched from his safe distance as, after a moment of further cogitation, it ran off the hand and away. 

Then he made another shuddering noise and laughed sheepishly. "Now I feel like a little kid." 

Heero chuckled, then yawned again as he turned to go back inside. "So Duo's afraid of spiders, is he?" 

"You would be too if they were as big as your face!" 

"Good point." 

"Once one was _on_ me," Duo recalled, knowing it sounded more childish than ever but unable to restrain himself. "It was super gross. There's one really good thing about not being able to feel anything: you can't get that skin-crawling feeling like there's a million spiders on you after you've dealt with one." 

Once more Heero laughed as he set Duo down on the little bed and tucked him in again. 

"Sorry I woke you up," Duo added, watching Heero get back into his own bed and arrange the blanket as he lay down. 

"Don't worry about it." Heero sounded sleepy, amused, and not even the tiniest bit annoyed. Then he turned onto his side and went still. 

As before, Duo stared at him contemplatively in the dark, conscious now of what seemed to be the emotional equivalent of burning heat -- an aching combination of fondness and pleasure and longing so intense it felt almost physical. He wasn't entirely sure what it was about the inconsequential events that had just taken place, which Heero might not even remember in the morning, but he was more than a little moved by the fact that Heero was willing to get up in the middle of the night for something so stupid and didn't even seem inclined to grumble about it. 

This was going to drive Duo crazy more surely than any six months spent on a Goodwill shelf. It was clear that his feelings for Heero were stronger than he'd realized, or perhaps had simply become so lately. Heero was so kind to him, so wonderful... yet there were still moments when Duo received a very definite impression that Heero just didn't see him in that light. And that uncertainty was the worst. If he could only know for sure, one way or another, he would know how to govern his own thoughts -- whether to start trying to get over this, or to look forward to pleasures ahead. 

Unfortunately, the chances that Heero regarded him solely as a friend still seemed too high for Duo to say anything. He would not bring that kind of awkwardness into an arrangement that was already trying for Heero. Once he was human again and able to stop inconveniencing Heero on a daily basis, things would be different. Then, if the answer did turn out to be, _"I'm sorry, Duo, I'm not interested,"_ as Duo feared, at least he would be free to walk away and not occasion a week full of unhappy, uncomfortable silences. 

Because just a little over a week was all they had left, right? Duo could wait that long, right? This aphysical tightness in the empty region where his heart would have been if he'd had one wouldn't kill him before then, right? 

He sighed. He should probably wait a little longer than that, even. It was entirely possible that Heero just couldn't muster any particular interest in a _doll_, however amusing and charismatic. A sad reason, perhaps, but Duo wouldn't really be able to blame him. And if that was the case, declaring his own interest the very moment he was human again seemed jumping the gun a trifle. Give Heero time to get to know him as a human, and maybe... 

God, this was all too frustrating, and he didn't want to think about it any more. If he could just get through nine more days without these kinds of thoughts... If only he could _sleep_... 

Of course, was his subsequent, bittersweet reflection, if he _could_ sleep, he would probably just dream about Heero anyway, and only end up making things worse.


	76. Part 75

  


Quatre thought he could definitely get used to waking up in Trowa's bed late on Saturday mornings in the warmth of a very long (or possibly just recurring) afterglow. Actually, he thought he could get used to waking up next to Trowa any day, anywhere, no matter what they'd done the night before. 

Now the sleeping magician's hand rested lightly on Quatre's arm as he lay on his side with his head tilted in this direction; as Quatre awoke, he smiled at the sight of the pale, peaceful face not far from his own. He slid forward to press himself against his lover, wrapped an arm around him, and laid his forehead against Trowa's. This, of course, woke Trowa up, and Quatre was pleased by the thought that the first thing to meet Trowa's eyes would be Quatre's. The moon must be about at the half. 

"Good morning," Quatre smiled. 

Slowly Trowa returned the expression. Quatre noted that, for all Trowa's increased cheer and confidence over the last few days, he yet looked at Quatre as if astonished he was there. And, while Quatre was still flattered that Trowa seemed to attach so much value to his presence and attentions, he still _wasn't_ terribly pleased that Trowa seemed to believe they might cease at any time. But whatever its type, Quatre loved to see Trowa's smile. 

"Good morning," Trowa said. 

Quatre kissed him on the cheek. "It's Saturday," he said contentedly. 

"Yes, it is," Trowa agreed. 

"What are you going to do today?" He could provide a suggestion or two if Trowa didn't have any concrete ideas. 

Trowa did, though. "Continue some research I started the other day." 

"For your book?" Quatre ran his fingers idly over Trowa's smooth, bare arm. 

"No... Since the other day, I've been thinking about the curse ending, and I've been doing some research again into past curses that I have documentation of. I don't know how likely it is, but I believe there is a possibility that when the curse is broken, all the time I've lived will catch up with me at once." 

Quatre's hand on Trowa's arm stilled. "What would happen then?" He feared he already knew the answer. 

"I would die," Trowa replied, simply and calmly. 

Quatre took a deep breath, trying to push past the cold, clutching feeling these words had called up in his heart. He tried to match Trowa's disinterest as he remarked, "Like the knights in Indiana Jones." 

"Like M. Valdemar," Trowa replied in a tone that clearly indicated he had never seen Indiana Jones and was submitting this instead. Quatre, in turn, had no idea who M. Valdemar was, but thought they were nonetheless on the same dreary page. 

"What about Duo?" Quatre's mouth had gone dry. 

Trowa shook his head. "The precedent for fully transformative curses is that the victim simply returns to his previous state, takes up where he left off. But for the caster, it's more of a condition being lifted, which may be a problem for me. I'll leave information easy to find about whom to contact in case this happens." 

"You seem awfully calm about all this." 

"I should have been dead years ago. I've been living for the breaking of this curse for so long, it only seems natural that my life should end with it." 

Quatre stared at him, unsure of what to say. The implication that Trowa had been and still was existing solely for this, and that when this was over it would be perfectly acceptable for him to die; that there was nothing else in the world that meant enough to him even to be referenced in his considerations on the subject... 

From someone like Trowa, Quatre definitely didn't expect a declaration of love and devotion at this point... but to be told, essentially, that he was so unimportant, that he'd made so little difference in Trowa's life, that his presence weighed nothing in the question of whether Trowa would rather be alive or dead... perhaps he was simply arrogant, but he'd thought he meant more to Trowa than that. 

But, then, maybe he was overreacting, applying to himself what really wasn't about him at all. It might just be Trowa thinking badly of himself again, and assuming it made sense for anyone else to agree with him. 

"I don't know what the physical effects would be," Trowa went on placidly, "but my guess is that my body would go through rapid decomposition and probably disintegrate." 

Quatre sat up. 

"No body for the coroner is the greatest problem I can see if anyone wanted to, for instance, take legal possession of my house. But one of my contacts is a legal consultant, and she understands my situation; she can make sure things go smoothly, though I don't know what she's likely to charge if I'm no longer around to do her favors." 

"Are you leaving a will?" Quatre couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. 

Trowa frowned. "I currently have one that leaves everything to charity. I'd like to leave Duo something, but he doesn't legally exist at this point." 

Quatre's manager brain immediately started suggesting possible solutions, but the rest of his head and heart just wanted to get away from this discussion. Of course if what Trowa said did come to pass, it was best to be prepared... but the way he was talking about it was, frankly, quite painful. It wasn't only the idea of Trowa leaving him so soon, but Trowa's apparent indifference to how Quatre felt about it. And then there was the fact that the word 'decomposition' really shouldn't ever be used in bed. 

Quatre slid out and went to the chair where he'd put his things last night, keeping his back to Trowa. Finally he forced himself to say, "Well, it's good that you have contacts and some kind of plan, just in case." 

He could hear Trowa behind him rising wordlessly, and Quatre began to dress in the same silence. It seemed they were done with the conversation, but in his head it was far from over. He was so perturbed... he needed to go somewhere else and calm down. 

Trowa didn't ask him to stay; Trowa consistently gave every indication of wanting Quatre around except this. When Quatre was here, Trowa seemed glad of it... but when he was gone, perhaps Trowa forgot about him -- at least to the extent where he could calmly consider his upcoming death without thinking of him at all. But Quatre couldn't keep having these thoughts here in Trowa's presence. You didn't chide your boyfriend of less than a month for not thinking of you when he realized he might die soon, no matter how peaceful he was about it... no matter how much you cared about him. 

Quatre's goodbye was a little cool, for all he tried not to let it be, but if Trowa noticed, he said nothing of it. So Quatre went back into his own house feeling cold and sad and agitated. A hot shower didn't really help his state of mind, for the only thing he could think about was Trowa -- Trowa's quiet conversation and calming presence, and how much he didn't want to lose him so soon after he'd found him. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted Trowa not to want to say goodbye... but perhaps that was asking too much. 

As usual on a Saturday, the house was fairly loud, and Quatre's phone rang as he walked through it to add to the din. Observing the name of the friend that was calling, knowing it would just be an invitation to go out and drink tonight, he turned the entire thing off. He felt himself drifting toward the conservatory where he could make his own noise and drown everything out for a while. That he found the room empty was a relief, as he didn't feel like explaining his mood to anyone. 

His eyes and intentions moved indecisively from piano to violin, but eventually settled on the former because there was less preparation necessary: he had only to slide onto the bench and uncover the keys to begin playing. This was another thing he normally did on a daily basis but had been neglecting lately, and at the moment he took a bittersweet pleasure from being back at the instrument. He rambled through a few songs he knew by heart before pulling some less familiar sheet music from inside the bench and setting to with a vengeance. And all the while he thought about Trowa. 

The biggest problem was that, while Quatre felt he had a decent imagination, he really couldn't put himself in Trowa's shoes with any kind of certainty. What did you feel like after living in misery for ninety years? Immortal not by choice but because of your own mistake; knowing you had a task to complete but never seeing how; unable to fulfill your purpose in life but unable to die? Perhaps, after such an existence, death would be specifically appealing. Perhaps Trowa would be surprised to find that Quatre didn't see it that way. 

The conclusion he came to at last was that Trowa's manner of telling him his news probably wasn't a reflection of how Trowa felt about him, but rather of a frame of reference so alien that Quatre could only just begin to see it. Trowa hadn't meant to hurt him, and probably wasn't even aware that he had -- and Quatre would like to keep it that way. He didn't want to lose Trowa, but that matter was out of his hands. What he _did_ have some control over was how the potentially last days of Trowa's life would go, and he didn't want to spoil them with a reproof that Trowa might not even understand. 

He stopped playing mid-movement and pulled out his phone to turn it back on and check the time; he found he'd been in here almost two hours with these bleak thoughts. Was Trowa still over there researching his own possible death in cold but placid aloneness, unaware of the reason Quatre had left but believing it was no more than he deserved? 

Abruptly an overwhelmingly sorrowful feeling welled up in Quatre, a combination of forlorn longing and an aching pain that, at least at the moment, could not be healed. He knew where he really needed to be right now, whether he'd entirely worked through his thoughts on this or not. With a sad little sound, he scrambled off the piano bench and hastened from the room, hurrying back to his own and the enchanted door therein, desperate to return to Trowa.


	77. Part 76

  


Heero had accomplished very little at home on Saturday, as he'd been too busy helping Relena get some of her furniture to a consignment store and fondly watching Duo flirt with her. Technically Relena didn't need to be getting rid of the contents of her apartment just yet, but she was so eager for her wedding and moving in with Colin that apparently certain organizational activities in preparation for that were sometimes the only way she could keep herself from going crazy. So, since she'd known Lindsay would be out most of the day, she'd bribed her brother with pizza to help her make sure the furniture she was selling was clean and in good repair, which had turned into a many-hours-long term of hanging out. 

Ironically, when that little party had broken up, it had been so Relena could go off to the dinner with their parents that Heero had claimed a prior engagement to get out of, and Heero could spend the evening not having dinner with his parents. Relena had reminded him that he was going to have to accept the invitation next time or risk insulting their mother, and she threw a surreptitiously thoughtful look at Duo as she said this. 

At any rate, this had prevented him from doing much at home besides wasting time and reading to Duo, so his usually weekly cleaning took place on Sunday instead. What he was really concerned about was the vacuuming, which he'd neglected for a while. 

As he was getting this done, he came across the doll he'd bought off Amazon a couple of weeks ago in order to divest it of its uniform. He'd completely forgotten it in the midst of Duo's excitement about the gift, and poor Spock had fallen to the floor and been hidden by the skirt of the sofa in back. Now Heero picked the thing up and looked at it thoughtfully. 

"Aww," said Duo, who was, as often, in Heero's jeans pocket. "I forgot about him." 

"This one's an 'it,'" Heero smirked. 

"So it is." Duo shook his head pityingly. "Put a paper towel on that thing!" He added in a suddenly much-altered tone, as if he was seriously concerned but masking it with casualness, "Unless you're just going to throw it away." 

Considering how unnerving it would be to see a body that resembled his own tossed carelessly into a trash can, Heero answered immediately, "No, I wouldn't throw it away; it's in such good shape. I'll send Quatre to Goodwill with it; or wait 'til you're human again, so you won't have to go, and take it myself." 

"Oh, I think I'd be OK to go to Goodwill if you were there to protect me." 

Heero, who was playing with paper towels and making a skirt for the second time in his life, smiled at this. "You know, I can't really see you as a damsel in distress." 

"Really?" Duo sounded pleased. "Even though I can barely even move on my own?" 

Heero shrugged. "Maybe physically you need some help sometimes, but you definitely don't have the personality of someone who needs 'protecting.'" He was heading into the computer room by now, taking Spock to set by his computer so he'd remember to deal with it at some point. 

"Well, thanks, Heero!" said Duo in satisfaction. "It's nice of you to say so." 

Heero liked the way Duo said his name. He couldn't help contrasting the doll in his left hand with the doll in his right, nor thinking in some interest of how much more real one seemed than the other. Even though he'd never seen Duo except as a doll, even though the Spock figure was modeled after a living person he _had_ seen (on screen, at least), Duo seemed infinitely more human in every possible way. Heero could picture Duo as a human a hundred times more clearly than he could Zachary What's-His-Name, and he was definitively attracted to one and not the other -- hot though Zachary was. 

He thought about Duo as a human all too much these days; as he went back to his vacuuming, he was dwelling on the image once again. He wondered how accurate it was. A week from tomorrow night, assuming everything worked properly, he would find out, and he speculated that it might drive him mad. That he would find Duo attractive as a human, whatever he looked like, he had no doubt whatsoever, and he was bracing himself for it. But he feared he could never be adequately prepared for whatever form Duo would present. 

Once he'd finished dealing with the carpets and had put the vacuum away in the coat closet where it lived, he pulled Duo out of his pocket and looked at him. 

"What?" Duo wondered. 

Heero tugged on the untied end of the doll's little braid. "Was your hair really like this?" he asked. 

"Yep!" Duo sounded a little curious, probably wondering where the question had come from, but didn't seem to mind answering. "I guess the curse liked it too, since it left it like this." 

"That's a lot of hair," Heero murmured. He hadn't really thought about it before, but Duo's braid went all the way down past his lower back; on a human that would probably equal _pounds_. 

"Yep!" said Duo again, this time in a tone of great pride. "It was the envy of all the lovely ladies." 

"Yeah, I bet. I don't think I've ever met a guy with that much hair." 

"Yes, you have: that super-gay friend of yours." 

"Oh, Zechs?" Heero hadn't thought of him. "I guess you're right." 

Deliberately to pet the hair in question as he'd once seen Trowa do Heero did not dare, though his hand longed to feel its texture again. And since he'd never braided anyone's hair and really had no idea how, he couldn't even use the excuse of repairing the failing braid. But his brain was flooded with images... he knew what he would be fantasizing about tomorrow in the shower... 

"And how 'bout you?" Duo wondered. "Was your hair always all messy and stuff like that? Did you ever bleach it like your sister does?" 

"The style's always been about the same, but..." Heero grimaced slightly. "Quatre once convinced me to bleach part of it, back in high school. Just the top..." He gestured. "He called it 'frosting' or something." 

"And you hated it," Duo guessed, sounding amused. 

Heero nodded. 

"I want to see pictures!" 

Heero snorted. He was looking around now for The Scarecrow of Oz, since continuing to stare lustfully at Duo didn't seem advisable. 

"There must be some," persisted Duo. "I remember listening to you guys go on and on and on about those pictures of you and Relena at your parents' house; it sounded like there were about a million." 

"_I_ wasn't going on and on and on." 

"No, you never do. But pictures? Are there pictures of your frosty hair?" 

"Probably somewhere," Heero mumbled. "Do you want Oz?" 

"Yooouuu are being evasive. I bet there _are_ a bunch of pictures, and _you're_ embarrassed about them, and _I_ will totally see them one day and see how your hair looked." 

"I plead the Fifth." 

"You _are_ the Fifth!" 

Heero laughed. In actuality, though he hadn't much liked the bleach effect in his hair back then, he wasn't particularly embarrassed about pictures from high school -- but it amused Duo to believe he was, so Heero let him think that. 

"Oh, and I do want Oz," Duo added. 

So Heero, who by then had located the book, headed for the couch to make use of it.


	78. Part 77

  


"Do you want to come play with the dogs with me again?" 

Quatre had made a policy of not mentioning the whole death thing at all if he didn't have to -- thereby refraining both from reprimanding Trowa and from upsetting himself -- but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking of it just about every moment he was with Trowa. Little unspoken addendums kept appearing after his statements; this one was, _"While you have the chance?"_

"Certainly," said Trowa, setting his book aside and rising. "Let me get ready." 

Aware that he would probably rather not know, Quatre did not ask him what he was working on. He'd been buried in that same book when Quatre had visited earlier on his lunch break, and Quatre simply wasn't interested in hearing what it contained. Instead, he followed Trowa into the next room. 

He seemed to have done a good job getting Trowa into the habit of going to bed at night; Trowa almost always had his contacts out when Quatre came over anymore, and had to put them in if they went anywhere -- whereas previously he'd never seemed to remove them, as he'd so rarely bothered with intentional sleep. Now as Quatre watched him insert the lenses, he reflected that, for one reason or another, Trowa probably wouldn't be needing to buy any more of them. 

Once again they managed to sneak through the Winner house without encounter, but soon thereafter their luck ran out. Evidently his parents had either noticed or been alerted to their presence, and had come to investigate; Scrat had barely run out after the ball twice when the back door opened and a hearty voice greeted them from up the path. 

"Quatre! This is at least the third time you've brought this young man here without offering to introduce him to us!" As Quatre turned toward the house, observing both his mother and his father approaching, the latter continued, "Is this the infamous Trowa Barton?" 

"'Infamous?'" Trowa echoed at a barely-audible murmur as he too turned. Quatre really should have warned him that Mr. Winner was likely to say something like this. He probably also should have mentioned that this confrontation was inevitable, and discussed options. But now there was no time to come up with answers to the questions that would undoubtedly be asked, and Quatre had no idea how this meeting was likely to go. 

"Yes," he said as his parents drew up to them at the edge of the lawn. "This is Trowa, my boyfriend. Trowa, these are my parents, Catharine and Bernard Winner." 

Gravely Trowa stepped forward to shake hands. "I'm very pleased to meet you both. Quatre talks about you quite a bit." 

"Oh-ho!" said Mr. Winner. "All good, I hope!" 

"He hasn't told _us_ anything about _you_, Trowa," Quatre's mother said, smiling warmly. "Do you live in town?" 

"He lives out east," Quatre put in. 

"In Lujoso? Or past the county line?" 

"Farther than that," Trowa answered with amusing honesty. "But I travel a lot." 

"What do you do, Trowa?" asked Mrs. Winner. 

"I'm a human resources consultant." This lie had the calmness of boring truth, and Quatre was impressed. It occurred to him that _of course_ Trowa was ready with something to say in situations like this; it had probably never been a lover's parents before, but this couldn't be the first time Trowa had needed to explain himself without mentioning magic -- and that just because he didn't like dealing with people didn't mean he was entirely incapable of it. 

Quatre was even more impressed when, upon his mother's remarking politely that that sounded interesting and his father's more blunt question about how this economy was treating independent contractors, Trowa responded with specifics about this hypothetical job of his that he must have determined upon at some earlier point. 

Actually, he seemed to have taken all his experiences doing magical favors to make people's lives easier and cast them into a business context so as to pass himself off as an expert on the improvement of employer-employee relationships and workplace convenience -- and he was so quietly convincing that even Quatre, who knew the truth, found himself almost believing it, and thinking that Trowa would probably make a very good human resources consultant in reality. If he didn't die. He wondered if Trowa planned on doing any kind of work after the curse was broken. If he wasn't dead. 

Fascinating as it was to watch Trowa thoroughly con Quatre's parents, the topic itself was rather dull -- as dull as anything spoken in Trowa's voice could hope to be, anyway -- and Quatre was certain that Trowa had chosen this particular fake profession so that people wouldn't be interested enough to ask too many questions. Even so, Quatre completely lost track of the dogs while listening to the conversation, little part though he took in it. 

"It can't be easy to convince employers there's a direct correlation between that and turnover," his father was saying. 

Trowa shook his head. "I always conduct a survey a year later, so I have a set of hard evidence." 

Mrs. Winner's interest in this discussion had by now (understandably) lagged, and, turning to Quatre in the next convenient pause, she asked, "Are you two having dinner here tonight?" 

Smiling appreciatively at this _let's-move-on_ question, Quatre answered, "No, we just came by to see the dogs, and then we're heading out again." 

"Well, Trowa--" and she turned back to him-- "you'll have to come to dinner sometime. We'd love to have you." 

Trowa nodded. "Thank you. I'd like that." 

"Yes!" Mr. Winner took his wife's hint and addressed his son. "Bring him by sometime and let him meet everyone." He shook Trowa's hand again. "It was excellent to meet you, sir. You two be good!" And, though he didn't wink or otherwise indicate any secondary meaning, Quatre felt his face heat somewhat. 

"I'm glad to have met you both," Trowa agreed politely, without reacting at all to the potentially embarrassing statement (perhaps without even _noticing_ the potentially embarrassing statement). 

"We'll see you later," said Mrs. Winner. "Have fun with the dogs." And with a smile she turned and drew her husband back toward the house. 

Once his parents were well inside and out of earshot, "That was amazing," Quatre commented. "You didn't miss a beat! You must have been expecting that." 

"Not specifically." Trowa bent to retrieve Scrat's ball, and threw it across the yard. "But I always have some answers ready, even if I'd rather not have to lie." He didn't seem entirely pleased about it -- as a matter of fact he looked fairly drained -- but he said it placidly enough. 

"But you must have known you'd meet my parents eventually, so it's good you had a plan." Just like he had a plan for his potential death seven nights from now. Only less depressing. 

"No," said Trowa, "I didn't think I was likely to meet your parents." 

Quatre hid his frown and bit back his _"Why not?"_ He didn't really want to hear Trowa explain that he'd speculated he would be dead before the opportunity to meet Quatre's parents arose. 

Trowa was gazing at him consideringly as Scrat brought the ball to Quatre. "You look like your mother," he noted. 

For the millionth time, Quatre tore his thoughts away from Trowa's possible impending death, and threw the ball again. He could talk about family resemblances; he would be _glad_ to talk about family resemblances. If it took his mind off what he didn't want, what he _never_ wanted to think about, he could talk about anything.


	79. Part 78

  


Traffic was unusually bad on Tuesday morning, and, even standing up out of his door and trying to peer past the other cars at one point when everyone had been at a standstill in the road for at least a minute, Heero couldn't tell why. "Probably an accident," he speculated when even Duo down in the passenger seat, who couldn't see the congestion, noted how much longer than usual the commute was taking. "Probably going the other direction," he added wryly, "and everyone's just slowing down to look." 

"Well, let _me_ look," Duo requested. 

Disregarding how it would appear to anyone that happened to have their eyes turned this direction, Heero lifted Duo up to window height and held him there as long as his second hand wasn't required for driving -- or what passed as driving in this stop-and-go. 

"Looks like a bunch of cars," remarked Duo, sounding disappointed. "I was... hoping... for..." He trailed off. 

"What, an accident?" 

"Just something interesting..." Duo's tone was quiet and somewhat odd, but Heero had to put him down at this point and couldn't really look at him. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Pick me up again," Duo ordered. "Like at the next light or whatever." 

Immensely curious, Heero did so, and, in response, Duo let out a long, wondering sigh. This was always an interesting action to observe, as it was purely aural: no actual air came from Duo's lips, nor did his chest rise or fall with the supposed breath. At the moment, however, it was less interesting in itself than in its cause. "What?" Heero demanded. 

"I can... feel... your hand..." Duo said, a slow grin growing on his little face. "I mean, there's still nothing -- it's not, like, tactile... but I can feel the temperature difference." When Heero had to set him down again, he went on in a more excited tone, "Yeah, your hand is definitely warmer than just sitting here. Come on, come on, pick me up again." 

As the traffic hadn't really sped up, Heero was soon able to comply, and to observe Duo's renewed grin. "Oh, god," the doll exulted, "this is so awesome! I can feel it! I can totally feel temperatures! Ha-_hah_!" After setting him down again, Heero could see, out of the corner of his eye, little plastic arms and legs waving in excitement. 

"It's working," Heero forced himself to say. "Six more days!" Mentally, though, he was reeling from the buzz he'd gotten hearing Duo talk about the warmth of his hand and being able to feel him; he knew Duo hadn't meant it that way, but he couldn't help considering it downright erotic. It didn't help that _Duo's_ hands, and the warmth and strength Heero imagined in them, were a constant feature in his fantasies. It was awfully early in the day and awfully far from the shower to be getting aroused by the thought of something he couldn't have, and he worried about this one in particular because he was sure Duo wasn't going to let it go. 

He was right. When they eventually reached their destination (it had been some kind of emergency road construction slowing the traffic), Duo proceeded to spend the entire workday demanding that Heero pick him up and put him down repeatedly. And, though the majority of his reaction consisted of, "Warm! ...cold! ...warm! ...cold!" -- which was too absurd to be arousing, though it was endearing -- there were comments here and there that more than made up for it: 

"Every time you put your hand on me, it surprises me all over again! I'm so not used to this anymore!" 

"I'd forgotten how _nice_ it is to be warm... not that the cold isn't fun, even if it's just for contrast, you know? Now, if only I could feel the texture too, it would be perfect." 

"I can feel it on specific areas, even! Like, I can tell where you're holding me. I could always tell before, but I couldn't _feel_ it. Now it's all warm in particular spots." 

Fortunately, Duo was too caught up in the interest and glee of the circumstance to notice the effect it was having on Heero, but a few of Heero's co-workers weren't so preoccupied. Among others, Dorothy raised one of her strange eyebrows at him when he answered only absently a question she asked; and (though it was difficult to tell) even Wufei seemed to be able to see, from the distance of his own private planet, that Heero was paying less attention to him than usual when he came around to find out if Heero had ever seen _The Wizard of Speed and Time_ and relay his own thoughts on it. 

The day's tribulations didn't end after work, either. Duo wanted to feel the heater and the air conditioner and see if he could detect temperature differences among the various rooms of Heero's home. Most of this was far less maddening than the earlier comments about Heero's warm hands on Duo's body, and Heero humored him in the majority of his requests -- but drew the line at holding him under hot and cold water. 

"You don't need a bath right now," he said with a laugh. 

"Well, do I get to take a shower with you tomorrow, then?" 

"No." 

"But I want to feel the hot water!" 

"You'll just have to wait until next week when you're human." Heero was really quite pleased with how placid his tone was in the face of the idea of showering with Duo. 

"Next week when I'm human," Duo sighed happily. "Can I use your shower then?" 

That definitely didn't help with the mental images, but Heero was again quite proud of himself when he managed, "Sure," without any trace of unsteadiness in his voice. 

"You gonna shower with me then?" wondered Duo next, slyly. And it was a good thing that such a jokingly flirtatious remark didn't really require an answer, because, after the type of day this had been, Heero didn't think there was any way he could have given one. 

It got worse when, as they settled down to read some Oz before bed, Duo demanded a seat in Heero's lap rather than on the end table. This was simultaneously exactly where Heero would like Duo, and probably the last place he should have him if this continued. Because if Duo made any comment about the warmth of Heero's _lap_, the temperature increase was unlikely to stop there. 

Heero couldn't at first think of a decent excuse not to comply with this request, since he had held Duo on his lap before. He couldn't bring himself to explain that, at this moment, having Duo there would make him feel like some kind of rapist, doll-form notwithstanding. What he eventually came up with -- and rather cleverly, he thought -- was, "No. I don't want to read if you're not going to be paying attention." 

"I'll pay attention!" Duo protested. 

"You can sit here," Heero allowed, placing him on the arm of the couch and curling a hand around him for stability. 

"Ahh," Duo said, which was almost as bad as anything else. "OK. But do I get to sleep in your bed tonight?" 

Heero felt himself flush, and wondered whether the heat would make its way down to his hand and Duo's attention. There had been days when he'd wondered how he was going to get through the lunar cycle... at the moment he was just wondering how he was going to get through today.


	80. Part 79

Quatre had once asked whether there were schools for magic, and sometimes Trowa thought their casual time together almost qualified as one. Quatre was charmingly eager to learn what he could about magic and how it worked, especially whenever Trowa cast some type of spell he hadn't seen before, or when an eager couple of magicians showed up at the door with a pie they just innocently thought Mr. Barton might like. 

"That's the disadvantage of having lived in this house for so long," he told Quatre in a sigh once he'd gotten rid of the followers without answering most of their questions. "Half of the magical community knows my address." 

"So how _did_ you find Denis Roblund's daughter?" Quatre asked in great interest, echoing one of the things the followers had wanted to know. 

Trowa shrugged. "I just jumped to her." 

"How? I mean, if she needed to be found, I assume nobody knew where she was..." 

"If you have a very specific knowledge of someone, you can use them as a destination." 

"And you had a very specific knowledge of Denis Roblund's daughter?" Quatre's tone and look expressed playful false jealousy. "Who was this, anyway?" 

"An eight-year-old girl. She was kidnapped. It was..." Trowa thought back. "1987. And it was her mother who had the very specific knowledge." 

"Oh, OK. So you just..." Quatre paused with a frown. "And this wouldn't have worked on Duo why?" 

"Because that very specific knowledge you need includes the physical, and he was in a completely new body. Don't think I didn't try, though." 

Quatre's frown lingered for several seconds, but finally he let it go and climbed onto Trowa's lap in the chair, as he often did at moments like this. "So the kidnapped kid... you locked onto her mom's mental picture of her like you do on a place I want to go?" 

"It's more difficult with an image of a person; people's images of other people tend to be far more... subjective... more prone to inaccuracy..." 

"OK. So what did you have to do?" 

It consistently pleased Trowa to find Quatre so fascinated by the topic he could most easily talk about, and so did the further queries Quatre used in trying to understand. Additionally, such discussions were good exercises in wording magical explanations comprehensibly, which was something Trowa would need to be able to do if he ever actually started writing the book he'd been contemplating. So he enjoyed these conversations very much, and not just because he held them with Quatre. 

This evening's culminated in his evicting Quatre from his lap so he would have the space to cast a spell as a demonstration of the principle he was elaborating upon. Gesturing wasn't technically necessary, as he clarified to the displaced Quatre, but it sometimes helped a great deal in maintaining concentration -- which _was_ necessary, especially for a communion spell. 

When he'd finished with the illustration, he found to his disappointment that Quatre did not intend to return to his lap; it was getting late. Quatre _did_ pull him forward by his shirt collar, however, and kiss him slowly. When he withdrew, he reiterated the opinion he had expressed before that Trowa still had a hard time believing: "It is so sexy when you do magic." With a grin he added teasingly, "I should have had that on my list of criteria for boyfriends years ago." 

"You'll have to add it for your next one." Trowa tried to match Quatre's teasing tone, but obviously some of the dismay he felt at thinking about Quatre's next boyfriend must have sounded in his voice, for Quatre's expression gradually turned grim. 

"You know," he murmured, looking up into Trowa's eyes, "I kept thinking it was just because you'd realized you might die soon..." Quatre shook his head. "But not all of this fits, and some of it started before that." 

"Some of what?" Trowa wondered warily. 

"You're just holding your breath waiting for this to end, aren't you?" 

Trowa frowned and said nothing. 

"You assume I won't care if you drop dead. You assumed you wouldn't ever meet my parents. You talk about my next boyfriend like it's something that's going to happen pretty soon. You always look at me like you're surprised I'm still around. You've never really thought this was going to last, have you?" 

Finally Trowa admitted, "No, I haven't. I'm just glad to be with you while you're here." 

Quatre took a deep breath. "So what is it you're thinking about me? That I have a short attention span? Or that I'm too spacy to have any idea what I want and I'll realize pretty soon here that it isn't you? Or do you think I'm just using you for sex and I'll get tired of it one of these days?" 

"No!" Trowa was horrified. "Of course I wasn't thinking anything like that." He hadn't even realized that what he was thinking might _imply_ any of that. "I just thought..." 

Closing his eyes, Quatre sighed. "You just thought I don't really know you, and the more I find out, the less I'm going to want to stay with you." 

It didn't sound like speculation. And since it was perfectly true, Trowa could return nothing but a heavy, "Yes." 

"I don't know what to do to convince you that you're really, honestly stuck with me. What is it you're..." Quatre raised both hands in some frustration and shook them beside his head. "Do you have some dark secret I don't have any idea about yet? Were you a Nazi or something?" 

"No! I... it's just..." Trowa knew Quatre wasn't going to like this, but there was no way around it. "Everything about me." 

"I thought it would probably come back to that." Quatre sighed again, and allowed his hands to fall and clasp Trowa's arms. "Let me tell you what I know about you so far. You are absolutely persistent and devoted; you're not the kind of person who abandons a friend even after _eighty-seven years_, no matter what you personally are going through. You are intelligent and skilled and knowledgeable, and you use that to help and teach other people, and only ask for tiny little things in return. You're blunt and clever, and you think fast on your feet; you're fun to be around. You're interested in talking about just about anything, and you make just about anything interesting to talk about. Not only that, but you're extremely attractive and fun to have sex with. Should I go on?" 

Trowa was definitely blushing, and he'd wanted to break in after every other word and deny it all. "I don't really think that's--" 

"I _know_ you don't. And it's driving me crazy. Why is it that you can believe the curse will be broken and everything will be fine, but you can't believe that I honestly like you?" 

"It took me eighty-seven years to believe the first one," Trowa reminded him, forcing a weak smile. 

"Trowa!" Quatre sounded simultaneously fond and very exasperated. "I'm twenty-four! I'm not going to live eighty-seven more years! I can't wait that long!" 

"I'm sorry," said Trowa, almost automatically. 

"I'm going to ask you for another favor." Quatre slid his arms back up Trowa's, and, as he had done on previous occasions, took Trowa's face in both of his hands. "I know I ask a lot of you, my poor Trowa," he said, half facetiously, "but I hope you can do this one more thing for me." 

"You haven't asked much of me." 

"Then you shouldn't mind doing this." 

"I'll certainly try, whatever it is." 

"Well, it's this: even if you can't see anything good about yourself -- _yet_ \-- can you please try to believe that _I **do**_ see it? That I'm not just arbitrarily with you because I have nothing better to do?" It was that same tone as before -- the one that was both reproving and pleading -- and Quatre's facial expression just about matched... only there was a touch of sadness that was almost despairing to it as well. 

In response to that look, the only thing for Trowa to say was, "All right." Unwilling to be dishonest, however, he did add, "I'll try." He took a deep breath and attempted again to smile. "It isn't as if it's an unpleasant thing to try to believe." 

Quatre murmured approvingly, "That's the attitude I want to see."


	81. Part 80

  


Heero had changed clothes and was just starting to think about dinner on Thursday evening when Quatre called. "Hey, Heero, I'm running some errands with Cairo in the car, and he's already getting a little carsick... I'm going to let him walk around outside your apartment for a bit. Do you happen to have a bowl you could fill with water and bring out for him?" 

"Sure. Are you already here?" 

"I'm a block away." 

"OK, I'll meet you down there." 

As Heero put his phone away Duo asked, "What's up?" 

"Quatre," Heero replied briefly. 

"Oh, is he actually going to pay attention to us today?" Duo grinned. 

"Only because his dog's getting carsick." Heero also grinned, though he wasn't entirely cheerful about the question and answer. 

Duo probably thought Quatre hadn't been around much lately because he was busy with work; Heero, on the other hand, was convinced that Quatre had a magic door of his own into Trowa's house, where he'd been spending most of his extraprofessional waking time (and probably, if Heero knew Quatre, much of his sleeping time as well). It wasn't a theory he wanted to relate to Duo, though. Unfortunately, it was a theory he _needed_ to relate to Duo, and undoubtedly couldn't. It fit with the fact that Quatre was currently running errands with his dog, too: he'd probably been neglecting the animal as well as his friends, and now was giving it the unusual treat of riding in the car with him as an apology. 

With a Tupperware bowl full of water held carefully in both hands and Duo in his jeans pocket, Heero headed down to the parking lot, having a little trouble managing doors but eventually making it without spilling too much. Outside, Quatre had already let the dog out of the car and was fussing with something in the back seat -- possibly simply adjusting the sheet he kept spread over it for Cairo to sit on, and possibly something less pleasant. 

Cairo was a calm, pretty creature that didn't think much of Heero; Quatre had assured him that Cairo was that way with everyone, and it didn't bother Heero greatly as he'd never really been a dog person anyway. Now Cairo didn't appear to mind him, however, as Heero set the water down on the sidewalk and called, for he came slowly over, sniffed at Heero's hand briefly, and began to drink. Heero, not terribly fond of the smell of vomit and speculating it might be part of what Quatre was dealing with over there, sat down on the curb a couple of parking spaces away and set Duo beside him. 

"He looks OK," he said loudly enough for Quatre to hear him. In response, Quatre made a sardonic noise. Heero smirked. "How's that other one? The hyper one?" 

"How many dogs does he have?" Duo wondered. 

"She's fine," Quatre replied at volume. "I had to have Darryl come out and distract her so I could get Cairo into the car without making her sad." 

"Hoooowwww many dogs?" Duo reiterated. 

"You know, if Scrat didn't have Cairo for company and such a big yard to run around in, I'd say we should get rid of her... Cameron _never_ pays attention to her." The guilt in Quatre's tone told Heero he'd been right in speculating recent neglect of Cairo; the nephew's offense must be pretty severe if Quatre was still mentioning it in the face of his own. 

"Just two dogs?" Duo guessed. "And who's Cameron?" 

"Sorry... Quatre's oldest nephew," answered Heero. "And, yes, two dogs." 

"Well, this one is a mighty fiiine-lookin' animal," Duo drawled. 

Heero laughed a little. 

"What was that?" Quatre called. 

"My voice is too goddamn quiet!" Duo yelled. 

It seemed Quatre still didn't hear him, so Heero replied, "Nothing." 

Duo sighed and turned his attention to Cairo, who was now sniffing about. 

"Four more days," Heero murmured reassuringly. With his little plastic hands, Duo patted appreciatively at the one of Heero's that was half curled around him where he sat on the concrete; it was a strange sensation. 

Meanwhile Quatre was saying, "I still need to go to Carquest and a grocery store; do you guys want to come with me?" 

Heero had a secret love of auto parts stores, but was being perfectly honest when he replied, "Not in a car that smells like dog vomit." 

"We could take your car," was Quatre's teasing suggestion. 

"_That_ animal in _my_ nice car?" 

"Oh," said Quatre in mock surprise, "did you get a nice car?" 

Duo had been talking nonsense at the dog, to which Heero had been half listening in amusement as he held this distance conversation with Quatre; now, all at once, Duo's tone changed, and his random noises abruptly became a good deal more intelligible: "Whoah! Hey! Hey, stop! Bad dog!" And at the same moment, Heero felt Cairo's warm, wet, snuffling nose against the hand he'd had on Duo's body. 

It happened with dizzying quickness. At the sound of Duo's supplicating but somewhat muffled, "Heero!" the latter looked down in time to see Cairo take the doll by the head, pick him right up, and start to turn away. Heero made a grab for Duo, but missed entirely as Cairo began trotting toward Quatre. 

"Hey!" cried Heero in his turn, diving after the dog, missing again, and scrambling to his feet. He never actually did manage to get his hands on Duo, and it was a startled and confused Quatre that pulled the doll from Cairo's mouth. 

"What..." Quatre began. 

Heero snatched Duo in a panic and began looking him over for damage, despite knowing that he was supposedly indestructible. As he did this, Duo was swearing continually, and only stopped when Heero's eyes met his. Breathlessly he asked, "How far was that?" 

"I don't know," replied Heero, his panic settling into horror. "I couldn't-- Quatre, did you see?" 

Quatre's eyes had gone wide as he'd realized what had just happened, and he shook his head. Then they all simply gazed at each other blankly. Cairo leaned complacently against his master, unaware that he'd caused any trouble. 

"Shit," Duo said again at last, sounding distraught. 

"It may not have been too far," said Heero quickly. However, as even he wasn't sure how far the dog had gone before he'd caught up, his tone was none too certain. 

Duo just stared up at him, painted eyes wide. 

Heero held him tighter. "I'm sure it's all right," he said, though he wasn't. "I'm sure I got to you in time." Though he wasn't. 

"I'm so sorry," Quatre breathed, one hand on the dog's head rubbing almost absently at its ears. "I don't know why he did that. Maybe... maybe he thought... I don't know..." 

Duo took what sounded like a deep breath and spoke in that disconcerting tone of false cheer Heero had heard from him a few times before: "I've never known what it is about me that dogs like so damn much. They're pretty common familiar animals... maybe they sense the magic or something." 

"I guess we'll find out on Monday." Quatre clearly wasn't referring to why dogs liked Duo so much. There was a distant, contemplative quality to his voice, which Heero attributed to his suddenly thinking of Trowa and how this might affect him. 

Perhaps Duo was on the same wavelength, for he said, "Don't anyone mention this to Trowa, OK? He shouldn't have to worry about it before he has to. Especially if it turns out he doesn't have to worry about it at all." 

Slowly Quatre nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. 

Heero also wasn't sure what to think. If _he_ were the one under a curse and approaching what he believed to be the end of a long period of suffering, he would want to have clear expectations about the day in question, know whether or not he could anticipate success. On the other hand, Trowa didn't seem the type to get his hopes up -- about anything, really -- and Heero didn't feel it was his place to make the decision when Duo and Quatre were both more familiar with Trowa and more concerned for his well-being. So finally he nodded too. Then they all just stared at each other again, bleak and pensive. 

When somebody showed signs of wanting to pull into the parking space they were occupying, Quatre finally stirred. "I've got to go," he said reluctantly, looking around as if he'd forgotten where he was. "I am so sorry about this." Seeing his human moving again, Cairo climbed up through the car's open back door without being urged. 

Duo shook his head, dragging his somewhat slobbery braid back and forth across Heero's hand. "Not your fault," he said. "It's not exactly something you can train your dog not to do." 

Quatre smiled weakly at Duo, then raised his eyes to Heero. There was in his face that thoughtful expression that suggested he wasn't saying something he had on his mind. Heero remembered him wearing that look a few days before the email about Trowa; he wondered what Quatre was thinking now, and whether he wasn't saying it because Duo was present or for some other reason. What Quatre did say eventually was, "Thanks for the water." 

Heero nodded. Their goodbyes were subdued, and then he stood on the curb holding Duo in both hands and watching Quatre drive away. 

Duo was very quiet as they returned inside, even once the door was closed and they were alone and out of anyone's earshot. Heero hadn't put him back in his pocket, but continued to keep both hands possessively on him as he walked with the bowl under his arm dripping down his side, and now he gazed at the doll in similar silence. 

Finally Duo said, "If that just ruined everything..." 

"Then we start over," Heero interrupted tensely. "We start a new month and try again. We try harder." 

"But--" 

Heero would not even hear the beginning of an objection. "We _start over_," he reiterated. 

For a long moment Duo stared at him, his eyes blinking away in their uncannily regular rhythm. And eventually he said, as quietly as before, "Thank you." 

Not trusting himself to answer verbally, Heero nodded. 

"And now," Duo announced next, clearly changing the subject, "I think I really _do_ need a bath." 

Heero forced a smile. "Yes, I think so too." 

"So bring on the hot water! That'll be my silver lining." 

Smile widening somewhat, if a little sadly, Heero hoped it could be his as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What _was_ going through Cairo's head? See [_The New Familiar_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315701) to find out.


	82. Part 81

Quatre had never been the type to take issue with a repetitive routine. He didn't mind going to work every single day at the same time through the same traffic and doing things that varied very little from one month to the next, and he almost never thought, _I need a vacation_. Saturdays and Sundays were enough for him to relax on, and he was careful to accept only the social invitations that would still allow him time to do so. He'd been the same way during college, and the attitude had always alternately annoyed and impressed his friends and acquaintances. Heero called him a workaholic, at which Quatre just laughed (sometimes somewhat abashedly, depending on how many hours he'd been at the office that day). 

But lately he'd caught himself thinking, upon awakening, _I have to go to work **again**?_ It was taking an increasing amount of effort to stay concentrated on what he needed to get done every day, and he had significantly less patience with everything that didn't involve going home and seeing Trowa. Quatre couldn't decide whether this was because he'd never encountered a set of circumstances so interesting as the curse and its victims... or because his relationship with Trowa was more meaningful and engrossing than he'd realized. Or possibly just because of the death thing. 

He remembered what his father had said, of course, and tried his hardest not to let this affect his effectiveness; he thought he did well, and that, even if his co-workers recognized that he was not quite himself lately, nobody except perhaps Heero was aware of the amount of impatience and tension coming gradually to a boil inside him. 

That Friday had finally arrived he was incredibly grateful. Only the weekend and one more day of work remained before the night when the curse would supposedly break. But that was another thing... As if he hadn't already had enough to think about, now there was the issue of whether or not anything would even happen at all on Monday evening. Of course if the curse didn't break on Monday evening, Trowa certainly would not die on Monday evening, which was a relief... but what other effects would that have on the curse victims? Could either of them handle getting so close and then being let down? Would they be willing to try again? 

He also still couldn't decide if Duo was right about leaving Trowa in the dark. If Cairo's little trick turned out not to have affected the curse-breaking process, Trowa's awareness of it would be an entirely unnecessary source of worry for him. And if it _had_ messed things up, was there anything Trowa could do? Surely the burden would still be on Heero's shoulders, so would it matter if Trowa found out on Monday rather than today? 

But Trowa seemed to believe so firmly now that the curse _would_ break -- the catalog on his study table was an ongoing testament to that -- the only remaining uncertainty the question of his own fate once it did... Was that a belief in the curse breaking _on Monday_, or the curse breaking _at some point_? If Monday, then surely it would be better to warn him, guard against any false optimism... or would that shatter his belief entirely, return him to the despondency of before, all the worse now after that brief taste of hope? 

Quatre just didn't know. If it had been entirely up to him, he would have taken a chance on honesty and openness... but since he _was_ so uncertain, and since Duo had made the request for silence, he was holding his peace at least for now. 

It wasn't as if it was the only matter of import he was keeping quiet about. 

"I still think Duo needs to know," he was telling Trowa; they had been debating across their lunch/dinner. 

Trowa pursed his lips. "I don't want to make him unhappy about something that's unlikely to happen." 

Though the words 'unlikely to happen' in relation to Trowa's upcoming death were music to Quatre's ears, he wasn't sure he agreed with Trowa's point; and the thought process was all too similar to what Quatre had been going through all day in regards to the _other_ secret. 

"He's your best friend." If Heero's theory was right, Duo might very well consider himself something more than that. "He may not be able to do anything about it, but he at least needs the chance to say goodbye." 

"But I don't think it's very likely that we'll need a goodbye." 

"And that's _wonderful_," said Quatre vehemently. "But just in case, since you still think there is that chance, he needs to be told." 

"He's looking forward so much to being human again..." Trowa was gazing at his food as if it was very interesting, which seemed to Quatre, at the moment, somewhat evasive. "I don't want to spoil his happiness." 

"You don't think having his best friend unexpectedly die the instant he's human again will spoil his happiness?" 

Trowa's uncertain frown had slowly transformed into that pensive, repressive expression that suggested he had arguments he was reluctant to voice; he probably had some other, totally different reason for not wanting to tell Duo, and Quatre couldn't even begin to guess what it was. 

"Will you at least tell him on Monday?" Quatre asked, a little impatiently. It drove him crazy when Trowa did this. 

"Quatre..." Trowa's low tone was serious and sad. "If you were in a bad situation, and you learned that the only way out of it might kill your best friend, what would _you_ do?" 

There were further points Quatre had wanted to make, but at these words he was stunned and momentarily speechless. How he had never come to look at it from that angle he didn't know, but now that he did... 

What _would_ he do? No experience in his life, he felt, was analogous to being a doll for eighty-seven years, so here was another of those circumstances where he didn't know if his imagination was up to the task. But of course at the phrase 'best friend' his thoughts flew instantly to Heero, who had held that position for a decade, whom he wasn't at all averse to admitting that he loved... the thought of seriously endangering Heero for any advantage of his own didn't sit right, no matter what suffering was involved on his part. 

Would Duo risk the life of someone _he_ loved for his humanity? Or would he refuse... throw away the month's progress and continue in his current form for Trowa's sake, even if no one -- including himself or Trowa -- wanted him to? And what would Heero think of that? 

"It's my sacrifice," Trowa said. "It should be my choice, I think." 

But didn't Duo deserve some choice too? What if he didn't _want_ Trowa to take such a risk for him? Whose right was it to make this type of decision? In such moments, it was not unusual for a man to fall back on his primitive training... but no teaching Quatre could remember from the whole course of his life indicated how such a situation should be handled. All he was certain of was that he didn't want Trowa to die, and that Duo would certainly feel the same. Who needed to know what when was rather beyond him at this point. 

"I guess it is up to you," he said softly at last. "I just hope you're right." 

"So do I," said Trowa.


	83. Part 82

  


Duo was laughing again. 

"Stop that," Heero ordered, accelerating more than he needed to and consequently taking a fairly sharp turn at a greater speed than was strictly wise. 

"I really can't." In testament to this, Duo was still chuckling as he said it. "Just... the look on your face... If he'd been able to see it, he'd have probably taken back the invitation right then." 

"You must know him better than that by now," sighed Heero. "He doesn't take hints." 

"Yeah, I know. But it was still heeee-larious." 

"You've heard every single conversation I've had with him since he started being so friendly," Heero went on in some frustration as he pulled into his own lot. "Have I given any indication at all that I'd like to hang out with him outside of work?" 

"I'm not really sure you're _capable_ of giving that type of indication," Duo said, his tone all of a sudden very solemn -- though it was the solemnity of a joke at Heero's expense. "In fact, I might just have a heart attack if you did." 

Heero had his revenge by pointing out, "You don't have a heart." 

"Oh, yeah," said Duo jovially. "Damn." 

"But seriously..." Finding that his usual spot was taken (again) by next door's boyfriend (Heero considered it a tragedy that the truck was that familiar), he pulled into a farther parking place. "Have I given him false signals or something? Why would he invite me to anything?" 

"He's trying to get into your pants," said Duo wisely as Heero lifted him out of the car along with his briefcase. "I mean, who wouldn't? It's nice in there." 

Heero didn't reply, as they were passing another apartment-dweller that was already giving him an odd look at the sight of the doll in his hand. And once he'd entered the empty stairwell on the way up to the second floor, Duo spoke again: 

"Honestly, though, I think the poor guy's just lonely. He feels like he's made a connection with you, so that's all he's going to see for a while. You could be ten times more anti-social and he'd still probably act the same." Hastily he added, "I know, I know, you're not anti-social. Hell, compared to that guy, you've probably got the best social life _ever_." 

Heero smiled wryly as he unlocked his apartment door. "OK," he said. "Thanks." 

Wufei had invited Heero to accompany him to the unveiling of some new collection of figures from some show or other, and the current relatively rational discussion of the circumstance had only arisen after the incapacitating bulk of Duo's laughter had passed. Now that they were home, however, the subject was dropped in favor of Duo's usual flirtatious remarks as Heero changed clothing, Duo's usual grumbling about his inability to eat as Heero found dinner, and eventually Oz. But it came up again later as Heero was getting ready for bed. 

"I can't believe that guy asked you out," Duo was chortling after a long silence during which his mind had obviously returned in some amusement to this topic. 

"He didn't 'ask me out.'" Heero was glad he was in the closet where his blush couldn't be seen. 

"Yes, he did! Looking at action figures together? That's totally a nerd date!" 

"He's straight," Heero said flatly. 

"He _thinks_ he is," said Duo in a tone of correction. "I am going to have so much fun with him when I'm human again..." 

"You're going to try to prove he's gay?" 

"Well, that, and, like, put Silly String all over his car." 

Heero emerged from the closet at this point and began looking for a different shirt to wear to bed, since he deemed that last night's had passed its between-wash limit. Duo whistled at his bare chest and started saying teasy flirty things, and this derailed the conversation again. 

Once he was in bed, Heero found his mind drifting to the oft-contemplated idea of Duo as a human and what he would do at that point; and he had to admit that he really liked the idea of Duo messing with Wufei on a regular basis. Only (hopefully) three more days... 

And it occurred to him all at once, somewhat idly -- a clown of a thought -- to wonder what would happen if he were to discover on Monday night that it _had_ all been a hoax this entire time. After all, though he'd seen proof that magic existed, what he'd seen didn't actually prove that most of what Duo and Trowa had said was true. What if it was all an elaborate prank? 

The thought was too absurd for any reaction but laughter -- out loud, even -- which seemed to be the theme of the day, and Duo couldn't but hear him. "What are you laughing about all by yourself in bed there?" he demanded. 

"I'm not all by myself." Heero rose onto an elbow and turned toward Duo on the nightstand. "You're here." 

"Yeah, but I'm not in bed with you," Duo said coyly. 

"In one sense you are... you're in bed, I'm in bed, we're in the same room..." 

"OK, OK, OK." In the darkness, Duo's little waving arm was barely visible. "But what were you laughing about?" 

"I'll tell you," said Heero slowly, "but you have to understand that it was just a stupid thought... nothing serious... I definitely know by now that you're a real person..." 

"Whoa!" Duo laughed. "Now I'm _really_ curious!" 

So Heero told him. He'd been a little worried that Duo might be unhappy at such an idea's even having occurred to him, but it turned out Duo was only amused at the hypothetical situation Heero proposed. The question of why anyone would want to trick someone else into carrying a doll around with him for a month was the subject's primary source of amusement for him, and he started speculating enthusiastically. 

And though the 'anyone' in this case was, of course, Trowa, Heero couldn't be jealous -- or anything but amused, really -- at Duo talking about him continually, due to the wildness of the various theories Duo put forth as to why Trowa might act that way. In fact, Heero couldn't help voicing a few of his own, or occasionally just building on Duo's. And it wasn't the first time they'd lain there talking and laughing in the dark, like kids at a sleepover, far longer into the night than one of them at least should have been awake.


	84. Part 83

  


Quatre forced himself to play with the dogs for a bit on Sunday morning before, pleased with his self-discipline, he headed over to Trowa's house. There, after a long discussion about books, he chose one of the few Trowa owned that wasn't in the unreadable magical language, and sat back in Trowa's computer chair (dragged into the study for the day) to read it. 

Trowa was once again making notes for his own hypothetical book, and it was pleasant to be able to look up and see him working placidly throughout the morning. Additionally, today Trowa finally noticed, for the first time, that his tea was a different flavor than what he'd been buying for decades, and Quatre got to tease him about that. 

For lunch they had fajita steak and rice, which Trowa seemed to enjoy -- but he seemed to enjoy it even more when, after they were done eating, they somehow (Quatre really had no idea how it came about) ended up making love in the living room. Then they finished clearing up after lunch, which process had been interrupted by the previous activity, and attempted to return to what they'd been doing earlier. 

They found, however, that the fond looks they kept throwing each other for the rest of the afternoon rendered them absolutely useless at their respective pursuits. Finally Quatre set aside the book he'd been trying to read -- it _was_ interesting, just... not as interesting as Trowa -- and went to join his boyfriend in the armchair. 

It was remarkable how quickly hours could fly during the course of a conversation that was one third intelligent and productive, one third flirty and stupid, and one third kissing. Of course there was also an extraneous fraction in there somewhere comprised of the dark thoughts Quatre could not entirely banish about Trowa's possible death, and, since Thursday, the possibility that the curse might not actually break tomorrow -- but despite this, the time passed relatively swiftly and smoothly. And even once it was over, Quatre could still look back on it and work through it all again in his mind, if not with exactly as much pleasure as when actually taking part in it, at least with more than he took from anything else that didn't involve Trowa. 

But eventually, aware that he needed to leave yet reluctant to do so, Quatre slid out of the chair, standing straight and stretching slowly. "Well, tomorrow's the big day..." 

"Yes." Trowa also stood behind him, and ran a hand up Quatre's back to settle between his shoulder blades. He still moved somewhat hesitantly making gestures like that, but he was getting better. 

Leaning against him, Quatre sighed, mostly in contentment. "I can't _wait_ to see you un-cursed," he said. He couldn't help adding mentally, _Assuming the curse actually breaks, and you don't die._ Damn secrets. 

"I'm looking forward to it myself," Trowa understated. 

Quatre's backwards-seeking hands found Trowa's arms and guided them around him, consequently pulling Trowa closer. "Are you nervous at all?" 

"Yes," Trowa said simply. "I never asked to be immortal, but I've gotten used to it... I'll have to get used to mortality all over again." 

_In one way or another_, Quatre thought a little despondently. He noted, at the same time, that Trowa had expressed no nervousness about the curse's actual end; it seemed he really did have faith that it would break tomorrow. Quatre said nothing about this, however. "I'm glad you'll be mortal again," he replied instead. "I'd hate to keep getting older and older while you stayed the same." 

"I'll always be older than you, though." Trowa's tone was so serious, it was a few moments before Quatre recognized that he was teasing. _Trowa_ was _teasing_ him. Unprovoked! 

It was difficult to keep his voice level after that realization. "But you always being older than me doesn't mean very much." He started walking, not really with a destination in mind but enjoying dragging Trowa along behind him. "I mean, I'll always be older than Heero, but so what?" 

"I'll always be _a lot_ older than you," Trowa amended. 

Quatre's grin was now definitely sounding in his words. "That depends on how you're keeping score! You were born when, 1898? And the curse started in 1923?" He laughed. "Actually that's probably still older than me. When's your birthday?" 

Trowa had to think for a moment. "August twenty-second." 

"So that would make you about twenty-four and a half, right?" 

"'Twenty-four and a half...'" Trowa murmured. "It's been a long time since I thought of myself like that." 

Quatre chuckled. "Well, mine's in December, and I'll be twenty-five then." 

"So I'm still older than you." Trowa bent to kiss Quatre's neck from behind. 

Several minutes passed before Quatre made any further move to depart, and even then it was only at the sound of the clock; and after he'd been so responsibly keeping track of the time on his own, too! "I need to get home to bed," he sighed. 

He had already turned away when Trowa said hesitantly, "I wish... I wish you could stay. I know you have to work in the morning, but--" But he got no further than that, as his mouth was suddenly otherwise occupied. 

Maybe Quatre had been unreasonable in wanting to hear voiced this particular desire; maybe he'd been asking Trowa to read his mind (something he knew now, since he'd inquired, that Trowa could not, in fact, do). And maybe it was silly to have essentially been wishing for Trowa to behave selfishly -- to ask Quatre to stay even when he knew Quatre needed to leave -- but somehow the lack of that request on all previous occasions had made Quatre feel as if his company was something to be enjoyed but never actively sought. 

Someday, provided Trowa was still around, Quatre would explain to him that the real issue was not _where_ he slept but _how much_ (and thus the important question was what aspects of his sleeping arrangements might keep him awake); but at the moment he didn't give a damn whether or not he was up all night -- because _Trowa wanted him to stay_. 

Eventually he drew back, releasing Trowa's lips from the passionate kiss with which he'd enveloped them, and looked his somewhat baffled lover in the eye. "I'll stay as long as you want," he whispered. 

Trowa looked pleased but a little confused. "Don't you have to be at work in the morning?" 

"Yes. But right now I have to be here." And, taking Trowa's hand, Quatre pulled him toward the bedroom.


	85. Part 84

"We should have gotten today off too," Heero murmured as he set Duo down on his desk and tried to decide whether it was yet warm enough in here to take off his jacket. 

Duo didn't answer. Instead, a voice behind Heero said, "And why is that?" He turned to face Dorothy, not having realized she'd followed him into his cubicle. As usual, she looked simultaneously amused and accusatory. "You guys have taken a lot of time off lately. It must be nice to be a Winner's best friend." 

"Yes," Heero replied calmly, "it is." He didn't answer her question. 

She didn't repeat it. Dorothy was very good at picking her battles. "Medford's systems are down," she informed him instead. "You probably have fifty emails waiting already. Send anything my way you think I can handle." 

In some consternation, Heero turned back toward his computer and began logging on from his standing position. "Thanks," he told Dorothy abstractedly. 

On any other day he would have grumbled a bit about the greater and more complicated workload, but today it was exactly what he needed to keep him occupied and distracted. Which did not by any stretch of the imagination mean that he didn't think about the doll on the desk beside him or the man that doll would hopefully become tonight -- but at least he managed to keep that to every other thought. 

Mid-morning he received an email from Quatre: _I'm going to **have** to fly out to Medford tomorrow. I am so frustrated._

_I'm sorry_, Heero wrote back. He felt his friend's pain, but couldn't help being secretly glad that it was Quatre's and not his own. _Maybe have Trowa magic you out there tonight after everything's over, and stay in a hotel?_

Quatre's answer read, _That's a good idea, but he can't jump there if he can't get a clear mental picture of it, and I haven't been there often enough for that._

_Maybe **he** has, though._

_Maybe_. Heero could almost _hear_ the sigh in this single-word response. He shook his head. 

As usual, bored with the monotony of a workday he wasn't technically part of, Duo jumped eagerly on the movement. Figuratively speaking. "What's up now?" 

Heero explained. 

"It is so nice that you guys took the day off in the first place," Duo said sincerely in response. "I mean, for you it already makes sense, since you'll definitely need a day off after this last month of hell... but it's just a really nice gesture from Quatre." 

This was a perfect opening for Heero to explain that Quatre also had a specific interest in this beyond politeness or even friendship... but, as usual, he couldn't find the words. Not when Duo was looking forward so happily to becoming human _tonight_. So he merely nodded slowly, as if continually distracted by his email -- though in reality his eyes were locked there solely because he couldn't bring himself to turn them toward Duo at that moment. 

At lunch time, Heero was distressed to find that it was only lunch time. He felt like he'd already been here a whole day plus overtime, but was, in fact, barely halfway done. His mood wasn't improved by the awareness that he was unlikely to be able to avoid _some_ overtime, given that he was _absolutely not_ coming in tomorrow and therefore needed to make sure everything was set up to go smoothly without him even if they were still supporting Medford. This would put something of a burden on Dorothy, and, though he rather hated to admit it, Heero would owe her one. But he still wasn't coming in tomorrow. 

"So here's our last lunch in this random parking lot," Duo commented; Heero, pulling into the area in question, had to remind himself rather firmly that the pleasure in the doll's tone probably had more to do with his desire to become human again than his disliking of spending lunchtimes with Heero in a random parking lot. When Heero just nodded, Duo went on, "And your last day having to explain me if anyone asks." 

Unfastening his seat belt and rolling down his window, Heero nodded again. 

"You know, though," Duo mused on, "I don't think I ever heard you give a real excuse for having me there anyway. So it's not like me not being there is going to change much." 

Heero thought it would actually change quite a lot about his job not having Duo there. As tiresome as being the in-house entertainment had been for the first few weeks, once that had died down he'd never felt anything but satisfaction at having Duo with him all day. The ability to turn to him and strike up a conversation about anything at any point (depending on who else was around, of course) easily allayed all of the little frustrations many of Heero's co-workers often caused. He was going to miss him more than he could say. 

He didn't attempt to say _any_ of this, however. Instead he just admitted, "I never did think of an excuse that didn't sound completely stupid." 

"You know what you should have said? You should have said you had to take me to work for a whole month because you lost a bet. With Quatre, maybe. I bet he would have played along and everything." 

Heero turned to stare at him, surprised and perhaps a little annoyed. "You could have made that suggestion a month ago." 

"I would have," Duo said sheepishly, "if I'd thought of it any time before just now." 

With a smile of defeat, Heero shook his head. "Well, it's almost over, so we can just let everyone keep wondering." 

"_Hopefully_ it's almost over," Duo muttered. 

Heero nodded. He'd been trying to avoid thinking about the dog thing, but it was impossible not to taste occasionally the undercurrent of doubt that event had set in motion. Because the awareness was always there, beneath everything else, that even after so much toil and pleasant looking forward, it was still possible that nothing would happen tonight. 

Of course there was another possibility they had not discussed at all -- that the curse would end while Heero was still at work, and there Duo would be unexpectedly, a stranger in the midst of business and everyone, and Heero really _would_ have to come up with an excuse this time. This particular possibility, however, far from being discouraging and worthy of avoidance like the other, struck Heero as rather amusing -- which was fortunate, as he had need of amusement for the rest of that day. 

He tried not to watch the clock, since he already knew he wasn't going to leave until everything he needed to get done got done and everything was ready for his absence tomorrow -- rather than the swift departure maybe a couple of minutes shy of five on which he'd originally planned -- but even before Duo started asking him approximately every six and a half minutes what time it was, he marked the coming and going of 2:07, 2:20, 2:39, 2:42, and 2:56. Then the three o'clock hour passed in agony, and Heero couldn't even bring himself to berate Duo for his constant demands, as his own eyes were on the computer clock more often than not anyway. 

There was a tension steadily growing in the air that would not be dispelled by any words -- even words that weren't about how many minutes had passed since the last words. Heero thought that, at least on his side, words _un_said played some part in this. He should have told him by now; he should have told him long before this. And yet he just kept at his work in restless impatience and uncertainty, and the tension grew. He thought even Dorothy sensed it, when she came to consult with him about something... though it was nothing unusual to receive an odd look from Dorothy, especially these days, and Heero didn't much fancy pursuing the reason for this one. 

Duo certainly felt it... between four and five, his time-related inquiries came gradually to be replaced, mostly, by impatient humming and cursing under his breath at intervals. He waved his arms and legs in a distracting little sort of dance, and again Heero could not bring himself to find fault with the behavior; though _he_ wasn't given to fidgeting, and had other things to do anyway, he couldn't deny that he was in exactly the same mood. 

Every minute past five o'clock was downright torturous. If not for the minor Medford disaster, he would have been home by 5:20, and he was more than aware of this with each sixty seconds that passed. Duo had taken to whining intermittently and levering himself around the desk as best he was able, pausing comically if it sounded like anyone was drawing near and might notice him, which was even more distracting than what he'd been doing before. 

The final straw was when Quatre -- office-addict, uphold-the-business-honor-of-the-Winner-family Quatre -- showed up in Heero's cubicle and announced that, since he was being robbed of what was supposed to be his day off tomorrow, he wasn't going to stay any longer tonight. Quatre was leaving _before Heero_. 

"That's it," Heero grumbled the moment his friend was gone. "I'm done after this." He gesture at his monitor almost angrily. "They can figure things out themselves." 

"We really can, you know," came Dorothy's sardonic voice from behind him. She'd stayed late for about the same reasons Heero had, and had probably wandered over now to see what the result of his visit from Quatre would be; though she didn't know exactly what was going on, it wouldn't take a genius to see that _something_ was. "I'm impressed that you're even still here. _Go home_." 

Heero glanced around and up at her. She was giving Duo that thoughtful look again. 

Finally he nodded. It wasn't as if the quality of his work wasn't deteriorating rapidly at the moment anyway. He saved his current progress, told his computer to shut off, and started gathering his things. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday," was Dorothy's somewhat odd goodbye as Heero, having shrugged into his jacket, took Duo in one hand and his briefcase in the other and pushed his chair in with his knee. He didn't pause to find out what she meant, just nodded as he hastened past her, and then practically broke into a run to get off the sales floor and out of the building.


	86. Part 85

Duo was not terribly sensitive to G-forces, but he got the feeling Heero was driving significantly faster than usual. And no wonder, really... Duo doubted Heero could be as anxious as he was for what would hopefully happen tonight, but still he must be pretty eager. The silence between them in the car, into the building, and up the stairs was tense, though not necessarily in an uncomfortable way. 

"Shouldn't Quatre have gotten here before us?" Duo wondered when they entered Heero's empty apartment. 

Heero gestured to the door across from the one they'd just used. "He probably went to get Trowa. His car was in the parking lot." 

After Duo's noise of comprehension, the silence returned while Heero changed clothes in haste that wasn't necessary but was definitely understandable. When he emerged from his closet in jeans and a t-shirt, he looked down at Duo where he'd put him on the end of the dresser as usual. Pensively he asked, "Are you going to tell Trowa about the dog?" 

Duo sighed. "No, I don't think so. Just keep your fingers crossed that I won't have to. I'd cross my own, but... you know..." 

Soon Quatre entered with Trowa, both of them looking quite agitated. Quatre threw himself down onto the sofa, and Trowa came to stand stiffly beside where Duo now sat on the kitchen counter. 

"Dinner?" Heero suggested. He'd already been looking through what he had available when the other two arrived. 

"Do you want to cook?" asked Quatre from the couch. "Or should we just order a pizza?" 

"I don't mind," Heero said. He moved Duo across the kitchen and continued digging through cupboards. "I'll make something easy." Duo thought Heero actually rather preferred it this way, as it would give him something to think about. 

"Can I help at all?" Trowa asked cautiously. 

Duo couldn't see Heero's face perfectly from where he sat, but at these words it seemed to take on a somewhat skeptical expression. Heero smoothed it away as he glanced over his shoulder at Trowa, however, and said, "If you want to find the biggest pot in the cupboard behind you and fill it with water..." 

Trowa nodded and obeyed. 

"Heero, can _I_ help you at all?" Quatre echoed Trowa's offer from the living room without, as far as Duo could tell, rising from the sofa. 

"You stay out of my kitchen," Heero replied with mock severity. 

"He can't be _that_ bad," Duo laughed. 

"Wanna bet?" called Quatre. 

"Heero, did you want this boiled?" Trowa asked. 

"Yes, if you can figure out the stove." 

Trowa made a faint disdainful noise as he set the full pot down on the stove, and spoke a water-boiling spell. 

Heero turned in surprise from what he was doing, which involved various vegetable-type substances. "Did you just _tell_ the water to boil?" 

"Aww!" said Duo gleefully. "Heero's hit understanding!" 

"I did," Trowa said. 

Heero stared at the now-boiling water for a moment, then reached for a tall plastic container nearby that held colorful noodles. Handing it to Trowa, he next pointed to a drawer and said, "Put four cups of noodles in." He pulled a large spoon from a closer drawer and added, "And stir it." 

Trowa nodded and obeyed, accepting first the noodles, then the spoon, then looking in the indicated drawer for a measuring cup. 

"So magic is really that simple, is it?" Heero mused quietly. 

Duo had become somewhat hypnotized watching Heero's hands dicing a variety of edible items into precisely similarly-sized pieces. When he realized that Heero had asked a question Trowa was not going to answer, however, he finally said, "Yeah, you pretty much just order things around. That's why it's called 'command magic.'" 

"Is it?" 

"When you order stuff to happen, yeah. There's other kinds too; Trowa could probably tell you better." 

But what Trowa said was, "Did you need more water boiled?" as he gestured with his empty hand to what Heero was chopping. 

"No..." Heero smiled faintly; he obviously wasn't used to _this_ kind of assistance in the kitchen. "But if you want to pull out a frying pan from that same cupboard and grab some margarine from the fridge... there should be half a stick sitting in the door..." 

"You know, Heero," said Duo thoughtfully, "we could help you start casting spells if you wanted. Once you're awake enough where you can understand the magical language, you're usually ready to start--" 

"Not tonight," Heero interrupted firmly. "Maybe sometime, but not tonight." 

Duo laughed. "Yeah, OK, you're probably right." 

At Heero's request, Trowa cast a few more spells to move the cooking process along, which Heero watched in cautious fascination. Duo wondered whether he was really interested, or whether it was simply another way of distracting himself from the concern and impatience he felt for tonight. 

The dish in progress turned out to be pasta salad with shrimp, which the humans ate with wine because there was general agreement that they needed it. This was the first time Duo had ever seen Heero and Quatre drink, and hopefully the last time he would ever have to watch them eating without being able to join in. 

And as they were dining and Duo was looking on, it occurred to him for the first time to wonder, "Hey, Heero... how come you don't have a table?" 

"See?" said Quatre triumphantly. 

"Apparently," Heero said dryly, "it's because I have poor taste." 

"Well, if _is_ kinda weird that you have an _end_ table and not a dining table." 

"_See?_" said Quatre again. 

Heero gave a defeated laugh. "I'll get one one of these days." 

"He's such a bachelor," Quatre commented wisely. 

Duo was so agitated that he didn't consider himself up to any of the flirtatious lines that came easily to mind at this. 

Once the humans had finished eating and cleaned up after the meal, there was some aimless wandering of the limited space available (which would have been even smaller if Heero had possessed a dining table), and then Heero and Quatre settled onto the couch (as far as their agitated and rarely lengthy seated spells could be called 'settling'), while Trowa remained behind and, seeming unaware he was doing it, paced slowly. Heero did invite him to take a seat, but Trowa declined almost without a word. 

A heavy silence fell over all of them, in fact, as time dragged on. It was one of those moments when Duo experienced all the mental effects of something typically considered physical without any of the actual associated sensations -- in this case of stifling, of suffocating, of being slowly crushed by something he could not throw off. There came with this a raging, swelling impatience, both anticipatory and fearful, which was quickly swallowing up all else. 

They tried to watch something to pass the time, but TV seemed even stupider and more aggravating than usual tonight, and they couldn't agree on a movie. Besides, the others seemed more interested in watching Duo anyway. Whether Quatre was seated and fidgeting or making yet another restless circuit of the room, he was turned toward Duo about half the time; it was no surprise that twice he ran right into Trowa. The latter was pretty consistently staring too -- Duo didn't look around from his seat on the end table very often, but he was nevertheless aware of Trowa's gaze. And Heero simply never took his eyes off Duo. 

Under different circumstances Duo would have been pleased by such undivided attention, especially from Heero, but right now it was as if they thought they might miss something if they looked away. As if they wouldn't know the moment he turned human if they weren't actively watching for it. 

And all the while, Duo himself grew more and more nervous and concerned. Surely it had been earlier in the evening than this...! Actually, hadn't he and Heero been within the requisite five feet most of that day? Maybe the dog thing really had messed this up... But what would that entail, exactly? Trowa would undoubtedly know, but to ask him would involve telling him, and Duo didn't even want to be thinking about it himself. 

And they just wouldn't stop staring... 

Finally he snapped. "I swear to god, you guys, if you don't all quit ogling me, I'm going to kill you all as soon as I'm human!" He thought he saw Quatre wince as he said it, and sighed harshly. "Heero, pick me up, would you? If I sit still in here for one more second..." 

Wordlessly Heero obeyed, taking Duo in hand and striding down the hall toward the balcony door with every bit as much impatience in his movements as there had been in Duo's voice. Past the door, he set Duo on the balcony railing, though for safety's sake did not release him. "At least out here," he muttered, staring up into the sky, "we can see the damn thing." 

Duo also turned his eyes toward the moon, and felt himself calm a little. It was a partial moon, not too far from the full, he thought, placid and distant, and not even the brightest source of light in the vicinity. A faint cool wind was blowing, and the night was quiet. 

"It's funny..." he remarked eventually in the most subdued tone he thought he'd used all day. "The moon doesn't really annoy me, even though I know it's got all this to do with me being a doll." 

"You probably haven't had long enough," Heero theorized. "If you'd spent a few years knowing that this magic had to do with the moon, you'd hate it." 

"Yeah..." A long silence followed while Duo thought about those hypothetical years and the very real ones that had already passed. Finally he said slowly, "Listen, Heero..." 

Heero looked abruptly toward him. 

"Thanks for all of this." Duo's meaning wasn't really enhanced by the gesture he made here, but at least he got to use one of his elbows. "I want you to know that, even if this doesn't work, I'll still appreciate everything you've done for me just as much. OK?" 

"Don't talk like that," Heero ordered. "Give it a little while longer, and you'll be human again." 

Duo made a sound of longing, which didn't even begin to express the strength of the emotion that filled his entire spirit, and turned his eyes back up toward the moon. Afterwhile, without looking away from the light in the sky, he murmured, "But seriously..." 

And it almost came out right then and there. He almost told Heero everything. It was on the tip of his nonexistent tongue, and only with difficulty and indeed some reluctance did he restrain it at all. _Not yet!_ he reminded himself. _Don't ruin this!_

"Thanks a lot," he finally managed. 

Heero squeezed him. "You're welcome." And then they both went back to watching the moon in tense silence. Watching and waiting.


	87. Part 86

  


When Heero picked Duo up and left the room with him, Quatre and Trowa looked after them for several moments before the former got up, took his boyfriend firmly by the shoulders, guided him to the couch, and forced him to sit down. 

For another little while Trowa still tried to see past the TV stand down the hall in the direction the others had gone. Finally, shaking his head, he murmured, "It's late." 

Knowing that Trowa meant not, _"It's late in the day,"_ but, _"This is taking longer than I expected,"_ Quatre drew a deep breath and asked calmly, "Why might that be?" 

Trowa gave a slight, helpless shrug. "There's so little to go on here... no fully transformative curse that I've been able to find a record of has been this powerful, never lasted more than few years. I've heard of less comprehensive curses lasting this long, but this is different. This is unexplored territory." 

"Groundbreaking magic from the magnificent Trowa Barton." Quatre was trying for levity, but all he managed was levelness. 

Trowa replied in much the same spirit. "As long as ground is the only thing that ends up broken..." 

Seconds felt like minutes in an atmosphere like this, and after a while Quatre had no concrete idea of how much time had actually passed. Was it time to start _really_ worrying yet? Or was he getting ahead of himself? The silence grew heavier and heavier, pressing down on him until he wanted to bend over and rest his head in his hands. He wished Heero and Duo would come back inside, just so they could all suffer together, but he suspected they were dealing with the same thing out there in their own ways. 

Finally, when he felt he couldn't take it anymore, he cleared his throat and asked, more or less in the same level tone as before, "Conceivably, what could have gone wrong?" Besides Cairo, of course. Because if this didn't work... if nothing happened tonight... they might not even really know what, exactly, had caused the process to fail. 

"I might have misinterpreted my visions," Trowa began slowly. "That's not likely... I've had a long time to learn to interpret visions... but I'm no diviner, and there's always the possibility that I was wrong. We may have been going about this entirely the wrong way, or there may have been some crucial component to the process that I missed, or... god knows what. 

"Some magic required even after everything is done... some final, triggering key spell... I may need to be out of Duo's vicinity... the artifact may need to be _in_ his vicinity... I just don't know. Of course there's always the chance that something's happened... that they haven't managed to stay within range this entire lunar cycle, and just haven't told us..." 

Quatre couldn't stand it. With a deep breath that came back out as a sigh, he turned his eyes toward the ceiling and said, "Trowa, listen..." When there was only silence from beside him, he forced himself to go on, "We actually think that might have happened. That they got out of range, I mean." 

Trowa still said nothing, and Quatre finally looked back over to find him staring, blank-faced, clearly waiting for more information. 

"Remember I told you I had Cairo in the car with me running errands the other day? And he started getting sick because it's been a while since I've taken him driving?" At Trowa's nod, he went on, "When I brought him here so Heero could give him some water, he..." Quatre threw his hands up in despair. "I have no idea why he did it! He picked up Duo and brought him over to me. I can't figure out why he would have--" 

"Cairo took Duo out of Heero's psychic field?" Trowa broke in. 

"That's the thing... we don't know for sure." Quatre's tone was miserable. "I wasn't looking; I didn't even know it had happened until Cairo showed up next to me with Duo in his mouth. Heero wasn't sure how far it was, and I didn't see." 

Slowly Trowa nodded. "Wasn't this last week some time?" 

"Thursday." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

Quatre winced. "I'm sorry... Duo didn't want to worry you, and he asked me not to." 

"Duo..." With a faint smile, Trowa shook his head. 

"I couldn't decide whether or not to tell you, and that defaulted into not telling you. I didn't want you to worry either... you were so much happier when you were convinced that the curse would break, and I didn't want to make you unhappy when we didn't know for sure whether it was even going to affect anything." 

With a raised brow Trowa pointed out somewhat flatly, "That's a familiar argument." 

"I know! I know. I..." Quatre looked at him helplessly. "I apologize." 

Trowa took his hand. "It's all right. Though if you'd told me before, I could have made all of you feel a little better by explaining something about magic. Duo really should know this, but maybe he's forgotten..." 

"What?" Quatre was suddenly eager, even a little startled by the words. There had been hope all along, it seemed, regarding this particular issue, and he'd denied it to himself and his friends by his own indecision. 

"Magic is rarely all or nothing." Trowa paused for a moment, then added seriously, "When there's 'a complete cycle of the moon' involved, I'm less certain about this than I would normally be, but even so... magic is almost never black and white; it's more of a spectrum. I believe--" he emphasized the word slightly, another reminder that he didn't feel _entirely_ sure about any of this-- "that if your dog really did take Duo outside of Heero's psychic field, it's far more likely to have pushed out the time or date than started the entire cycle over." 

For a moment Quatre just sat still with his mouth slightly open, but finally he managed, "So that would explain why this is taking so much longer than we'd expected!" 

Trowa nodded. 

"God... I feel like an idiot... I should have just _told_ you..." 

Again Trowa smiled, more warmly than before, and squeezed Quatre's hand a little. 

Quatre shook his head. "I'm so sorry..." he murmured. 

Slowly Trowa's smile faded, and his brows drew together into a look of concern. "Actually, I feel like I owe _you_ an apology." 

"Why?" 

"I want you to know... I'm sorry about the way I spoke when I told you I might die. It took me a while, because I was shut off in my research as usual, but eventually I realized why you probably got up and left so quickly... I just assumed at the time it was because you had better things to do than deal with me, but then after what you said the other day, I realized it had probably... bothered you... to hear me talking about dying." 

Smiling regretfully, Quatre admitted, "Yes. It bothered me a _lot_. It's been bothering me ever since, too." 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't realize how it might sound to you, and then I misinterpreted your behavior because--" 

"I know." Quatre took Trowa's other hand. "It's all right. Your self-esteem could still use some work, but we'll get to that if you survive." 

"I hope I do," Trowa said, and it came out almost a whisper. "If I implied that I have nothing left to live for, it wasn't true. I want to see Duo human again. I want Heero not to hate me. I want to be with you." 

Quatre bent so that his forehead rested against Trowa's, and closed his eyes. "So do I," he said, agreeing with everything. 

They sat thus for some time, until they were abruptly startled by the sound of shouting from outside. Forgetting that he wouldn't be able to see anything out there with the TV stand blocking his view of the hallway, Quatre glanced in that direction. When he looked back, he caught his breath as his heart suddenly stopped beating for a dizzy moment and then began a hot, startled pounding against his ribcage. "Trowa...!"


	88. Part 87

  


This was agony. Heero had never been so anxious for anything in his life, so worried and impatient. What Duo must be feeling he couldn't even begin to imagine. 

What if this didn't work? What if the night rolled on and on, what if the moon rose higher and higher, and nothing happened? Would they simply start over and try to keep closer this time? What effect would that have on Duo? Hell, on _Heero_? Could he live another thirty days like this? He never had managed to tell Duo the unfortunate news about Trowa... how much longer would he keep putting that off? 

There was no warning; it happened all at once, with a slight flash: Heero found that his hand was no longer clenched around a small plastic figure in a Star Trek uniform, but resting on the warm flesh of a bare human arm. He drew in a breath that was stabbingly sharp in its suddenness as he jerked the hand back instinctively. The entire world seemed to grind to a maddeningly painful sluggishness as Heero turned slowly under the moonlight to look at Duo for the first time. 

Standing a couple of inches taller than him, Duo, though solidly-built, was as scrawny as Heero would expect of someone that hadn't actually eaten in eighty-seven years (though, logically, why he should have expected this, when Duo had been a _doll_ for all that time, he wasn't really sure). And as Duo was completely naked -- of the little uniform there was no visible trace -- it was obvious that he was also every bit as well-hung as his plastic proportions had indicated, though Heero (for various reasons) didn't let his gaze linger long that far down. 

Moonlight on one side and electric light from indoors on the other fell on skin from head to toe that looked smooth and flawless. (A result of the curse breaking, perhaps? Heero had no concept of what that entailed, nor of what Duo's skin had been like before.) His braid, still coming undone at the end as it never _had_ been tied properly, fell as far as ever, but now obviously had the weight and fluidity dictated by its new mass, since it was swinging gently from side to side as if from sudden motion. 

And his face... It was like seeing a work of art done over in a totally different style... the live-action version of a long-running cartoon... all the aspects Heero had come to know, now in a more appreciable form. But that wasn't all. Simply put, Duo's face was perfectly, stunningly beautiful. And his eyes really did seem -- though it was hard to tell in this dimness -- actually to be that impossibly warm blue Heero had so long admired. 

Heero would have known him anywhere in an instant -- without the braid, without the eye color. Beyond these obvious identifiers, there were other, subtler indications that yet spoke loudly to Heero: even in this long-awaited, breathless moment between the curse and the rest of his life, even dazed and motionless, Duo's bearing and expression, perhaps some invisible air about him, were so perfectly typical of him, of everything Heero knew of him, that he would have known him even if every physical feature had been completely different from what he'd anticipated. 

The moment ended. Duo's eyes widened, and he swayed slightly as if, as seemed not unlikely, his sense of balance was a little rusty. He clutched the balcony railing for a second or two, breathing hard, and his gaze sought out Heero's. Then he threw himself at Heero and started to scream. 

There were words in there somewhere, but Heero couldn't make them out. He was far too occupied being squeezed to death by the enraptured Duo; trying to keep them upright as Duo half jumped, half danced even while hugging Heero; hoping not to go deaf as Duo shouted his sudden, overwhelming excitement and happiness directly into Heero's ear; wondering vaguely what the neighbors were making of this; and processing his own massive relief and pleasure at the success of the past month's endeavors. 

Duo was threatening to drag them both to the ground with his wild movements, his arms strong and warm and insistent on Heero's shoulders, and he was still yelling. Heero was laughing in amusement and fondness at Duo's behavior and happiness at the situation in general, but he couldn't help thinking that out on the balcony might not be the best place for a naked Duo to go on screaming. Heero thought he'd already seen signs of other apartment-dwellers' curiosity or annoyance at the circumstance. 

His suggestion they go inside probably wasn't heard at all; but Duo did allow himself to be led, a little unsteady, through the door. There he stopped in the hall, as if he was incapable of walking any farther -- and his faulty balance made this theory seem plausible -- and continued his rejoicing with tears running down his face. 

This time Heero could pick words and phrases out of the noise, but they were so slurred and disjointed still -- "walking agnn... muscles, ohmygod... eighty-se'en... feel th'air... moving around'n my own... whole fucking month..." -- that Heero's laughter did not abate. At least, not until Duo put his hands on him. 

If they weren't exactly the same hands Heero had invented for his fantasies, they were close enough that the old, hypothetical image was already melting into the wonderful reality. And now they were sliding manically over Heero's body, across his face and through his hair, up and down his shoulders and arms and back and chest. 

"It's _real_," Duo said, more or less coherently. "I can _feel_ you." He obviously had no idea of the effect this was having on Heero, nor how close the latter feared he was to giving everything away. And yet Heero couldn't move; he'd wanted for so long to have Duo's hands on him, the tangible warmth and presence of Duo so near him, that he simply could not bring himself to pull away. His entire body was heating, desire washing through him. 

Then Duo threw his arms around Heero, pushing right up against him; Heero could feel Duo's face against his neck, and Duo's hot, excited breaths on his skin ensured that Heero could draw none of his own. "You smell j's like I imagined," Duo whispered. He lifted his hands and ran them through Heero's hair again as he drew back, and Heero feared that his effort not to shudder in response was in vain. Half an instant later it didn't matter, though, for Duo had come eye-to-eye with him again -- and leaned in and kissed him. 

Utterly stunned, Heero couldn't at first respond in any way. But when Duo would have pulled away almost immediately in a jerky movement suggesting he hadn't meant to do it in the first place, an instinct not unlike self-preservation kicked in and sent Heero's hands out clutching at Duo hastily and desperately, keeping him close, and he kissed him back hard. It didn't matter that Duo had probably only done it in the heat of his returning sensations. It didn't matter that it undoubtedly didn't mean to him what it meant to Heero. All that mattered in the entire universe was that Duo, human again, was kissing him. 

Duo's eyes widened, and then he pushed even closer, pulling at Heero more tightly, and thrust his tongue into Heero's mouth. And perhaps he'd been having a hard time getting it to work properly for a while at first, but he seemed to have remembered plenty about its usage by now. 

He was hot through Heero's clothes, his restless hands still running across Heero's form with abandon, and Heero's concerns about why Duo had begun this kiss were melting away along with the rest of creation. His arms slid up Duo's bare back, which was as smooth and flawless as it had appeared in the moonlight, one hand taking hold of the braid and gripping it tightly while the other simply pulled at Duo as if it were possible for him to come nearer. He was pressed fully up against Heero as it was, clutching just as desperately as Heero and squirming as if unable to stand still, provoking Heero into that full display of desire he'd been so trepidatious about just a few minutes before. 

Duo's skin beneath Heero's hands was warm and soft, and he smelled and tasted strong and new and clean as if he'd just been made. And he was kissing Heero with a passion and intensity that suggested Heero had been wrong about a number of things. Only when Heero was thoroughly dizzy, erect, and breathless -- and god knew how Duo was affected, given that he'd _already_ been unsteady -- did they break apart far enough to draw in gasping breaths and attempt verbal expression. 

"I thought..." Heero was staring at Duo's eyes -- Duo's beautiful human eyes; how _could_ they really be that color? -- and speaking only a breath away from his lips. "I thought you didn't..." 

"I thought _you_ didn't!" Duo replied. 

And by mutual accord they erased the distance between them again -- this time in a bone-creaking hug, holding each other as close as possible as if in defiance of this apparently long-running misunderstanding. 

"Well, I do," Heero said fiercely into Duo's ear. 

"Me too," said Duo, rendering the entire exchange a triumph of coherency. "Forever and ever and ever." 

Heero chuckled weakly at this, though he really felt like crying. He was aware of Duo's shiver at the touch of his breath against his neck. "Oh, god," Duo said, and began slowly and very deliberately grinding his bare erection against Heero's clothed one. "It is _so good_ to finally be able to _feel_ you." 

Both the touch and the words made Heero shudder, which was punctuated by another wave of desire. As he drew back, releasing Duo, he saw in the other's face a look of mixed need, pleasure, and apprehension lest he'd been too forward. Heero took him by both hands and, walking backwards, pulled him through the door into his shadowy bedroom. Duo, now grinning with relief, allowed himself to be maneuvered toward the bed. 

"Sit down," Heero commanded. "You're going to feel this."


	89. Part 88

  


"Trowa...!" 

Trowa looked up from where he'd been staring at his hands, which he'd withdrawn from Quatre's, and this time Quatre's gasp was audible. He reached out and took hold of Trowa's face, and found in doing so that his lover was shaking. 

"Trowa, your eyes..." This emerged in a whisper as Quatre stared in wonder at the real green of the irises, the black of the pupils, the natural shine, the sparkle of tears. And all around these... Quatre ran his hands up and down Trowa's face almost without realizing he was doing it. He'd been correct in his speculation that the softness and smoothness of Trowa's skin would not change with the curse -- but the color was suddenly healthy and natural: still pale, but only within the range of normal coloration. Quatre would miss that faint glow, he had to admit, sickly as it had often seemed, but to see Trowa looking so human was heart-rendingly wonderful -- because the physical changes, of course, were all secondary to the great, glorious point, far brighter than glowing eyes or skin, that Trowa was _alive_. 

Trowa pushed forward through the boundary of Quatre's hands and clasped him tightly. He felt the same as ever, except for, perhaps, a greater vitality to his movement and the strength of his arms. Quatre returned the embrace with just as much intensity, and was unsurprised to find tears leaking from his own eyes in his happiness and relief. 

The excited screaming from down the hall grew suddenly louder with the sound of the balcony door sliding open, then turned to what from here was little more than incoherent babbling. It was definitely Duo's voice, finally at a normal human volume again (though this was the first time Quatre had heard it thus). Slowly Quatre and Trowa drew apart and looked at each other's tearstained faces with very similar expressions of happiness so deep it surpassed even smiling. 

"It's over," Trowa said. 

Quatre nodded. 

Duo's voice in the hall had gradually quieted, and now went entirely silent. A little unsteadily, Trowa got to his feet, and Quatre followed. Together they went to the doorway to see their newly-human friend. 

He was easily recognized; in this form, his braid must have been three feet long. He was also completely naked, and very enthusiastically kissing Heero. In fact, even as they watched, Heero's arms slid up around Duo's bare back to pull him closer. 

Now Quatre found himself grinning and inclined to laugh aloud from pure joy. He tore from the interesting sight, though, and, pulling Trowa with him, turned away. Looking as if he wanted to go back, Trowa began to protest, but Quatre interrupted. "Leave them alone for now." 

"But I haven't--" 

"He's not going anywhere," Quatre insisted. "Come on." 

Very reluctantly, Trowa allowed himself to be led across the room into his house; Quatre soothed him as he went, "They know where to find us if they're not busy with something else." Under his breath he added, "So much for Duo being in love with _you_..." 

Trowa sounded a little startled as he requested clarification. 

"Oh, that's what Heero thought. He's been pining over Duo all this time without saying anything about it because of that." 

"But..." Trowa's brow furrowed slightly. "But I thought it was obvious that Duo was interested in Heero. That's half the reason the curse is broken now." 

"Is it?" asked Quatre, greatly interested. 

"When I cursed Duo," Trowa explained, "I accused him of only pretending to care about that woman, of being fake. So the curse demanded that he genuinely care about someone. It had to be someone with magical abilities who wanted to see him human, so that their psychic field would influence his, but it wouldn't have done a thing for him if he didn't have that connection with them." 

"Why didn't you mention this before?" There was, Quatre considered, something very deja vu about asking this. 

"This whole thing started with me telling Duo what I thought he felt about someone. I didn't dare do it again." 

Quatre laughed. "One of these days, all four of us are going to have to get together and make a pact not to keep secrets from each other anymore." 

"So Heero really believed Duo wasn't interested in him?" Trowa came back to this point with evident skepticism, and maybe a touch of pity. 

"Heero's jealous in relationships," Quatre shrugged. "Duo probably just mentioned your name a few too many times." 

Trowa nodded. "That explains some things," he murmured. 

By this time they were settled in the chair in the study, and now Quatre began kissing Trowa's face in a clear but wordless change of subject. 

"I suppose I'll have to look in a mirror at some point," Trowa said, and didn't sound entirely pleased at the prospect. 

"For now you can just take my word that you look wonderful." At this Trowa made a skeptical noise, and Quatre laughed. "You never told me you had _freckles_," he added in mock accusation. 

"Do I?" Trowa sounded utterly blank at first, but then he went on in a tone of recollection, "I... suppose I probably should, yes..." 

"I'm going to kiss them all," murmured Quatre. "And later I'm definitely going to want to see if you have more anywhere else. Your skin is still so soft..." 

"I'll have to think about things like that now... my skin, I mean..." This was spoken in the same somewhat worried tone he'd used to reference the mirror. "I won't be immortal anymore. I'll have to start eating even more, and showering, and remembering to sleep... because the artifact will have to be destroyed, so I won't be nearly as powerful. Which means I won't be able to get the things I need in exchange for magical favors... Quatre, I don't know how to live..." 

"Trowa." Quatre was simultaneously amused, exasperated, and remonstrative. "Why are you worrying about all of this right now?" He rose onto his knees in the chair and again took Trowa's face in his hands. "We have the rest of your life to figure it all out." 

There was a long moment in which it seemed that Trowa was going to protest, go on listing reasons to be concerned about the future. But once that moment ended, Trowa's brows twitched downward in what seemed to be a look of determination. Emphatically he said, "Yes. We do." And, very deliberately, he pulled Quatre closer to him in a gesture free of any uncertainty, and kissed him.


	90. Part 89

Duo felt like the whole world was exploding around him. Of course it had been a very long time since he'd felt anything, but he didn't think he'd ever felt like _this_ before. 

He groaned, and his head fell against his shoulders -- which was in itself glorious, as it had been so long since he'd been able to feel the back of his head or his shoulders or his braid crinkling in the juncture -- as Heero blazed a prickling path with his tongue over the most responsive of Duo's skin. 

This, among an overwhelming host of other sensations, was spectacular almost to the point of impossibility; Duo could hardly believe the entire situation. After convincing himself that he _must_ wait a while before telling Heero how he felt, here was Heero sucking his cock. Heero liked him... Heero wanted him... and was more than proving it now. 

"Oh, god," Duo moaned, working his hands into Heero's hair. He already loved the feeling of Heero's hair, and the texture and warmth of Heero's skin as his hands slid down his neck, but it wasn't quite enough. Maybe he was just a greedy bastard, but... 

"Heero..." he groaned. 

"Mmm?" The vibration from this acknowledgment almost made Duo come right then. 

"This..." he gasped. "This is amazing... but I want more of you... _right now_..." He wanted Heero against him; he wanted a more complete connection to him, after so long thinking of himself as little more than Heero's charity project; he wanted the sensations of being with Heero to eclipse all others and stamp the first hours of his new human life with the smell of him, the feel of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the sound of his ecstasy. He wished he could articulate all of this, but at the moment he was simply too overwhelmed. 

Heero seemed to understand, though; either that or he was caught up in the moment as well. At any rate, with a lingering trailing of his tongue that made Duo moan helplessly again, he pulled away and stood. He said nothing, but the look he gave Duo as he reached for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it over his head was so hot and intense that Duo shuddered. Heero tossed the shirt onto the floor, and Duo eyed his bare chest covetously. It wasn't as if he'd never seen and, indeed, greatly admired it before; but things were different when he had hormones and the prospect of putting his hands and mouth all over it. 

His attention didn't linger there, however, as Heero was now taking off his pants. Duo had only been breathing again for a short while, but he was already rediscovering the art of holding his breath in anticipation as he watched Heero's clothing come off. Whatever underwear Heero might or might not have on slid down and hit the floor along with the jeans, and he was stepping out completely naked the next instant. 

"Good _god_, you are hot," Duo said. And it was suddenly a very good thing that Heero had done his changing out of Duo's sight all those times, because this knowledge, without the ability to do anything about it, would, without a doubt, have made something important inside Duo snap. 

Heero smiled at him, again utterly stealing Duo's breath. Then, to Duo's momentary frustration, instead of coming within reach, he moved around the bed and extracted something from the nightstand drawer. When he returned to the spot in front of Duo again, his tempting hips just beyond the reach of Duo's grasping hands, the object he held was revealed to be a plastic bottle full of thick bluish liquid. 

"Was I 'sleeping' right above that this whole time?" Duo demanded, amused and aroused. 

"Wait 'til you hear what I was doing in the shower this whole time," Heero murmured, "with you just outside the bathroom door." 

Duo definitely would have pursued this topic, but at that moment -- _finally_ \-- Heero climbed onto the bed, kneeling, straddling Duo's lap. Taking Duo's face in both hands (he must have set the bottle down somewhere), he kissed him deeply and intensely, pressing against him. 

As he felt so much of Heero's skin in such blazing close contact with his own, Duo groaned in his throat, and his hands swarmed over Heero's body in search of more. He wanted it _all_; he wanted every last inch of Heero for his very own, and it was a shame that he couldn't touch him everywhere at once. 

Heero threaded fingers through Duo's braided hair and pulled at him, intensifying the kiss almost to the point of pain. Duo thought it could have been a good deal more painful, though, and he still would have reveled in it. The weight and heat of Heero settled in his lap was divine, and the air was starting to smell faintly of sweat. 

As Duo began running fingers over Heero's buttocks and thighs, which were taut where Heero's legs spread around his, Heero released him and let his own hands explore. As he teased one of Duo's nipples, Duo's head rolled to the side with a gasp of pleasure. At the same moment, Heero moved his hips, rubbing their stiff cocks against each other in a burst of heat and pleasure that made Duo cry out. 

"Oh, god, Heero, that feels so good..." Duo found that, though he was perfectly capable of shouting his pleasure aloud as it came to him, actual words emerged only in a groaning whisper. "I should probably tell you... I've never done it with a guy before..." 

Heero nodded and kissed him again. And now he rose up on his knees, his hands releasing Duo even as he kissed him from this higher angle, pressed against him, squirming slightly. Duo's lap felt cold and abandoned suddenly, and he made a noise that was half disappointed and half intrigued at the contrast. Heero, probably correctly interpreting the sound, chuckled breathlessly, drawing away from Duo's lips and moving to kiss his jaw and ear instead. 

Duo's hands were running up and down the backs of Heero's thighs, which were trembling slightly as Heero ground his erection against Duo's stomach. And the next moment Heero went from nibbling Duo's earlobe to groaning out his name in evident pleasure. The sound of the word made Duo shiver so intensely that his entire body stiffened and pressed even harder against Heero's. 

"I've always loved the way you say my name," he whispered, "but I think that one was my favorite." 

In response, Heero murmured again, "Duo..." and straightened a little to look him in the eye. At his expression, simultaneously serious and adoring and lustful, Duo felt a line of fire race from swollen lips through his throbbing chest into his anxious groin. Heero's eyes were astonishingly beautiful. 

"You're doing funny things to my heart," he told him. "And I _just_ got it back." 

"You can have mine," said Heero, and kissed him again. And it was funny how so corny a line could make Duo's chest ache so wonderfully and his already throbbing erection even harder and more desperate than before. 

Suddenly Heero's hand, which Duo hadn't felt for some time, was on his cock, startling a cry out of him; as it was slick with lubricant, Duo thought he could guess now what Heero had been busy with. And as Heero rubbed Duo's erection quickly and thoroughly up and down, Duo was reduced to a state of trembling, groaning helplessness, leaning back slightly, bracing himself a little unsteadily on his balled fists on the bed. 

"I'm not... you're going to... I can't..." He wanted to warn Heero that he was going to come _very_ soon if this continued, but apparently finishing a sentence was another thing he couldn't do. 

Heero seemed once again to understand him without needing to have the thought completed, however. He drew back, rising up onto his knees again and reaching down. Taking hold of Duo's erection, he angled his hips and pressed slowly downward onto it, guiding the process with one hand while keeping himself open with the other. 

"A-ah!" Duo cried as he was enveloped by tight, glorious heat. "Heero... Heero..." 

Heero regarded him with slitted eyes as he sank completely onto him with a long sigh. Then there followed a protracted moment of stillness that felt like the calm before a storm, during which they stared at each other through hazy eyes and Duo said once more, adoringly, "Heero..." 

And then Heero kissed him again, and started to move. 

The world was exploding as it had earlier, but this time it was harder and brighter and faster. Duo broke what would have been a kiss with a groaning cry as Heero rose up and then sank back down. Also groaning softly, Heero abandoned Duo's mouth, leaving it free to let out his growing pleasure, and moved to chew on his ear again instead. Duo could feel the warmth and motion and moisture of heavy breathing, hear the touches of voice that crept into Heero's panting. But all noises were swiftly blurring together as Heero rode him harder and faster, urging him on with slick tightness toward orgasm. 

He'd had sex before... but it had never felt like this. Granted, it had always been with women in the past (the _distant_ past), but he doubted there was anyone in the world, man or woman, that could make him feel like this. The way it felt to be inside Heero, to have Heero against him, kissing him, loving him; the taste of Heero's mouth (which was probably at least somewhat the taste of shrimp pasta salad); the damp, hot sliding of Heero's skin against Duo's everywhere they were connected -- Heero, the man that had saved him, had given him new life... 

And yet... Duo would never, never tell Heero, but along with all these wonders there was also the sensation of his toes curling in the carpet; the tenseness of his legs that seemed to cling to the bed, working hard to keep him in his current position so as not to break the beautiful rhythm; the sweat beginning to trickle down from his knees; his thighs and buttocks against the crinkled blanket, and the weave of its cloth against his skin; the burning of his clenching biceps that struggled to support them both; the tickling of his hair against his face; the smells of sweat and sex... everything around him, all of these long-missed sensations combined irresistibly with what Heero was doing to him to bring him hard. He gave a sharp, inarticulate cry as the world blazed white-hot and heavenly for a long, perfect moment. 

Somebody knocked angrily on the wall, and Duo laughed faintly and giddily. His head was spinning, and he wasn't surprised to find himself falling over, collapsing onto the cool blanket with Heero on top of him. The movement tugged at his now-flaccid length still inside Heero's tight ass, and Duo groaned in mingled pleasure and discomfort. 

"As if they aren't at it every night of the week," Heero muttered, clearly referring to the annoyed neighbors on the other side of the wall. He squirmed free of Duo's cock with a sigh, and settled onto his side against Duo's sweaty body. 

Duo turned to face him, still loving the feeling of the blanket beneath him and the air on his damp skin and the fading shockwave of orgasm. He met Heero's eyes and smiled. "It's good to be human again." 

Heero smiled back. "It's good to have you human." 

Duo leaned forward and kissed him again briefly, then took one of Heero's hands in both of his. "It's all thanks to you," he said, and sighed in contentment. "And now good luck getting rid of me." 

Heero grinned. "I've put up with you this long..." 

Duo snuggled into him. "Yes," he said complacently. "Thank god for that."


	91. Part 90

"Just so you know," Duo was sighing, cuddling slowly closer against Heero and running a hand lovingly up his neck, "that was far and away the best sex I've ever had." 

There were too many potentially really weird responses Heero could have made to this, given Duo's history; eventually he decided simply to widen his grin, pulling as he did so, a little absently, at his still-erect cock. Duo, eyes dragged away from Heero's face by the motion, looked down and realized. 

Abruptly he sat up, and didn't seem to mind that doing so made him reel a little, dizzily. "Heero! You didn't--" He glanced around at the wall, and went on in less of a shout, "Now you should really do me." 

Heero didn't need to hear _that_ invitation twice. He wasn't too terribly surprised that Duo had made it, either. Even as he also sat up and looked around for the discarded lubricant, though, he commented wryly, "If you think my neighbors can handle it." 

"I think we have to take the chance," Duo replied with mock seriousness. "It may be a matter of life and death." Then he lay back again, tugging at Heero's hand as if to pull him on top of him once more. The light gleamed off his sweat-slicked skin, and Heero drew in a sharp breath at the look in his eye. He allowed himself to be pulled down atop Duo, and soon was slowly exploring Duo's mouth again with his tongue as he ground against him. 

At first Duo's hands worked through Heero's hair, a sensation Heero was already falling in love with, but after not too long they shifted to running all over his neck and back and sides again. Duo was still hung up on feeling him, it seemed, and Heero thought that fucking him from this position would probably best satisfy this particular inclination. 

He was already achingly hard, but the idea of having this burning need fulfilled by Duo, that Duo wanted it to be, and the way Duo was kissing him seemed likely now to drive him into a frenzy. Their previous connection had almost made him come, but it hadn't quite lasted long enough. Now, with the feeling of being filled and stretched and loved from the inside still lingering, Heero doubted he would last long either. 

One of Duo's hands had evidently fallen on the bottle of lube, as he was pushing it insistently against Heero's side. Heero took it without looking; eager as he was to make use of it, at the moment he was preoccupied with the softness of Duo's lower lip and the noises he found he could wring from Duo as he sucked on it. Eventually, though, he pulled away, looking into Duo's sparkling eyes and tasting as before his utterly untainted breath. 

Duo grinned, squirming beneath him in a manner clearly calculated to keep things moving. Breathlessly Heero returned the expression and sat back, at which Duo drew one leg up, inviting Heero in. 

Heero coated his fingers with lubricant -- the hand opposite the one he'd used on himself -- and slid the first one inside Duo. The latter made a noise of interest and some surprise as Heero pulled at him. When he added a second finger Duo commented somewhat shakily, "That feels weird." 

"Good weird or bad weird?" 

"I-don't-know-yet-but-don't-stop weird." 

Heero grinned again and pushed further in. He was watching Duo's slitted eyes and parted lips, and anticipating joining so intimately with him once again. He added a third finger. Duo, clenching with a tight heat that promised extreme pleasure to come, gasped, "Ah! Definitely good weird!" 

Carefully, Heero bent and kissed him as he continued to probe deeper. He knew he'd found what he was looking for when Duo stiffened, breaking from his lips with a startled, ecstatic cry. As Heero continued somewhat awkwardly to massage the spot with his fingertips, Duo writhed and groaned beneath him; and when he ceased and slowly withdrew the penetrating digits, Duo panted almost unintelligibly, "Can you... hit that... with your cock?" 

"I certainly plan on trying," Heero replied. As he shifted into position between Duo's legs, Duo drew both knees up enthusiastically. "Tell me if it bothers you," Heero said, readying himself at Duo's entrance, "and I'll stop." 

"You'll never hear _me_ beg for mercy." 

Heero had begun to push into him, but at this, with a monumental effort and a faint breathless smile, he paused. "Seriously, Duo," he panted. "If I hurt you within an hour of you being human again, I will never forgive myself." 

"Fine, fine," was Duo's impatient reply. His hands rose to clutch at Heero's back. "Just do it!" 

So Heero did. Sliding slowly in, he bent low over Duo's body so as to come into as close contact with him as possible. The area behind his eyes was already going nova before his entire length was buried, and he tried to concentrate on finding an angle that would brush Duo's prostate, as promised, before he completely lost his presence of mind and primal urges took over. 

Evidently he succeeded, for Duo was twisting beneath him after only a few thrusts, moaning sharply in conjunction with his quick rhythm. At a particularly loud outcry, Heero thought somebody next door knocked on the wall again, but that might only have been the pounding of blood in his ears. In any case he merely quickened his pace. 

This was like a beautiful dream; he almost couldn't believe it. Admittedly it was mostly like a very specific type of beautiful dream, but that wasn't to say he hadn't had non-sexual dreams about Duo as well that mirrored some aspects of this scene. The awareness that Duo wanted him, was happy to be with him... the welcome in his eyes and voice... his very presence here now the curse was broken... if Heero had hoped at all for any of these, it had been for some time in the distant future when Duo's heart had mended and he'd had time to notice Heero that way. And yet here they were now, making love, toward which Duo's attention and care seemed entirely directed. 

"Wow..." Duo was gasping. "I knew... I knew this had to be... good... but I didn't... realize..." 

"Do you like it?" Heero whispered. It was an inane question, but, apart from the fact that he'd very much enjoyed Duo's earlier assertion of how good he felt, he also couldn't come up with any more intelligent response. 

"Yes," Duo groaned. "Oh, god, yes." 

Heero wished he could keep this up until Duo had recovered and could get erect again, but he was too close, and he couldn't bring himself to stop and wait at this point -- and that "Oh, god, yes" was just too much. His fingers tightened in the blanket they'd already been crumpling as he came hard deep inside of Duo. He heard nothing from beyond the wall; either his groan hadn't been loud enough to disturb, or the neighbors had given up, or perhaps he had simply been too transported to notice their protests. 

As he settled into stillness on top of Duo, the latter began slowly to pet his hair, and murmured, "That's what I wanted to hear..." 

Heero had to assume that Duo did _not_ mean the sound of next door knocking. He kissed him, breathless and imprecise, and eased out of him. 

"Oh," Duo breathed, squirming. "Wow." 

Heero made an inarticulate sound of amusement and satisfaction. 

"That was amazing." Duo began wrapping his limbs around Heero in a manner that seemed designed more to allow him to continue feeling as much of Heero as possible all at once than for comfort, which made Heero chuckle a little even as he nodded his agreement. And then Duo added, "_You're_ amazing." 

Marvelously, astonishingly, ridiculously happy, Heero held Duo tighter, and they lay still in the cooling shadows. 

Finally Duo broke the silence again. "OK, Heero... it's time..." 

"Hmm?" 

"You liked me, apparently, and I was flirting with you every day... why the hell didn't you say something?" 

"Why didn't _you_?" Heero returned evasively, jarred from his warm lethargy. "Flirting like yours doesn't count." 

"Hey, I asked first." Duo was withdrawing from the convoluted embrace, and at last sat up again, looking down at Heero. 

"I thought..." Heero found this a little embarrassing to talk about. "I thought you were still in love with Trowa." 

Duo blinked. "How did you know I was _ever_ in love with Trowa?" 

Also sitting up, Heero explained briefly about the original misconception that had only been furthered by a certain email from Quatre. 

"So they _are_ together!" cried Duo triumphantly. "I _thought_ so!" 

Heero smiled. "That's why Quatre's been neglecting us for weeks." 

"Weeks?! This has been going on for _weeks_ and you didn't tell me?" 

"I thought... I didn't want to hurt you... I couldn't figure out how..." 

Duo leaned forward and squeezed Heero tightly. "Well, for future reference, I've been over Trowa for fifty years or something, and _you_ happen to be the one I'm in love with." 

Heero felt his face burning. "'In love?'" he echoed hoarsely. "Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" 

"We've been practically dating for a complete lunar cycle." Duo's tone was chiding, but he didn't sound hurt. Thank god he didn't sound hurt. "Also I'm pretty sure we just had sex. Twice, even. Seems plenty late enough to me." 

Heero felt the first stirrings of panic. Was Duo expecting a reciprocal declaration at this point? It was quite possible that he _was_ in love with Duo, but flatly _im_possible that he could put it into words just yet. 

Duo seemed to sense this reluctance on Heero's part, and not to be bothered by it, for he kissed Heero six times and changed the subject. "I can't believe I'm finally human again! You know, until I met you, I almost kinda didn't think it would ever happen?" 

As he continued to speak, he was examining himself -- running hands thoughtfully over his own flesh and his hair and stretching out in every direction. Heero watched this process with great satisfaction. "I thought for sure I'd just go crazy eventually and turn into one of those horror movie dolls that convinces the little girl to kill a bunch of people, and when they found out about me they wouldn't be able to destroy me, so they'd throw me away, and I'd end up in a landfill somewhere ruling over a pack of junkyard dogs and referring to myself with the royal 'we.'" 

Heero wasn't sure whether to laugh or wince, and definitely didn't know what to say. But Duo looked at him again suddenly, and he was smiling. "But now..." It wasn't the false cheer he'd often used before to put a good face on his bad situation, that phony brightness Heero had so hated -- this was _real_. It was a smile unforced, a natural tone, an expression of genuine happiness. "Now..." He reached out to run fingertips through Heero's hair. Then, unexpectedly, he slid suddenly off the bed and stood. "Now I'm going to see what's on your bookshelf!" And, with a joyful and triumphant laugh, half stumbling, he ran out of the room.


	92. Part 91

Duo didn't really need much convincing that a shower was the night's best next step when he knew Heero would be joining him. For one thing, it was a perfectly acceptable location in which to tease Heero about Animorphs and Goosebumps, which had been a long time coming (for all he hadn't expected it to take place in that particular venue). 

For another, he had a certain soreness in his lower half that, while he didn't at all in any way even the tiniest bit _mind_, needed some getting used to; standing relatively still in hot water for a time before he did anything else was perfectly welcome. 

For a third thing, it meant a chance to wash his hair, which Duo let Heero help him with because Heero so obviously wanted to. Heero's hands working through its length, unraveling the braid and combing out the long strands with his fingers, then moving up to massage Duo's scalp and rub shampoo downward, was an absolutely wonderful sensation Duo would probably never forget... but, honestly, just the action of hair-washing, no matter who was doing most of the work, was enough to bring him to tears that were quickly rinsed away by the running water. 

He thought about asking Heero to elaborate on what he'd been doing in the shower with Duo right outside the door on prior occasions, but decided to save that for another time; no reason to be wasteful, after all. 

The open air chilly against wet flesh, the roughness of towels -- not to mention Heero's hands rubbing him down with the latter and the reversed sensations as Duo did the same for him -- were all divine, and so were Heero's damp lips that found Duo's at some point during the hair-wringing process and did not let go for some while. 

When Duo would have left the bedroom naked a second time, Heero pulled him back. After kissing him again quite thoroughly he said, "Let's see if my pajamas fit you." 

"OK," said Duo jovially, but couldn't help adding, "Why?" 

"I can tell you want to go explore," Heero replied with a smile. "But if you wander around like that, you're going to find yourself right back in here pretty quick." 

Duo shivered and grinned. "I'd never have thought you were so horny, Heero." 

"For you, yes." 

"What have I gotten myself into??" 

Heero laughed and hugged him. 

It turned out that Heero's spare pajama pants were a bit short on Duo, but they were nonetheless comfortable, and there was something so sexy about wearing them that Duo thought he wouldn't have noticed even if they hadn't been. Once he had one of Heero's soft old t-shirts on as well, he spun around the room in glee and fell down. As Heero helped him to his feet Duo remarked, "Now I smell like you!" 

"Since I haven't worn those since I last washed them, I doubt it." Pulling Duo close and inhaling near his neck Heero added in a pleased murmur, "No, you definitely smell like you." 

"And what does _that_ smell like?" Duo was flirting, of course, but it had been so long since he'd had a scent, or the ability to discern scents, that he also genuinely wanted to know. 

Heero's intense response, "_My Duo_," didn't really answer the question, but Duo was more than happy to accept it anyway. 

Duo hoped that Heero wasn't hurt or offended at the strength of his desire to explore the apartment as a human. He also wanted to touch and taste and smell Heero for the rest of all eternity, and only the awareness that he and Heero had already done plenty of that tonight, and could do more later -- whereas he'd barely gotten started on the other goal -- sent him out of the room at all... and he hoped Heero didn't take it personally. 

The first thing that attracted Duo's attention outside of the bedroom was Trowa's door, and it was with a pang of guilt that he realized he hadn't even wondered what had become of his friend since he'd left him in the living room earlier. But as he moved toward the door, Heero stopped him. "Now's probably not the best time." 

"But I want to see how he turned out! If his eyes are all fixed and stuff!" 

"Yes, but he and Quatre must have gone in there together when the curse was broken..." 

"Well, I want to see Quatre too!" 

"Duo, what have _we_ been doing since the curse was broken?" 

"Oh!" Duo's smile widened into a grin, then a laugh. "Oh, OK." Then he turned away from the door and regarded the rest of the apartment with greedy eyes. 

There was nothing he did not get his hands on that night. He felt the texture of the painted walls; turned light-switches on and off in every room because he could; sat in the computer chair long enough to pick out a hypothetical message on the keyboard ("happy human day heero"); pulled some of the books down, mostly just so he could continue teasing Heero about being embarrassed about them; bounced on the guest bed until he fell off on the floor; made out with Heero on the floor for a minute; embraced the TV and assured it that it would always have a special place in his heart and they could still be friends (in the process almost knocking it off its stand, for which he apologized to it heartily); ostentatiously adjusted the lamp on the end table where he used to sit, and turned it on and off; picked up his invitation to Relena's wedding and, hugging it tightly to his chest, engaged it in a brief, clumsy waltz (he was getting the hang of walking again, but waltzing was still definitely beyond him); sat down on the couch, bounced a few times, stood up, and pulled Heero back down onto it with him; tested its horizontal amenities with Heero for a few minutes; opened every single drawer and cupboard in the kitchen and rifled through them, twanging the silverware and clinking the glasses; messed around with Heero for several minutes against the stove; and abruptly remembered food. 

"Oh, my god," he whispered as his eyes, widening, fell on the fridge and his brain recalled what it was and what lay within. He'd come across edible things in the cupboards, of course, but somehow hadn't really seen them as anything more than objects to be picked up in celebration of the fact that he could once again pick up objects. But all of a sudden he was conscious of a sensation in his stomach and throat -- god, he had a _stomach and throat_ \-- that he hadn't felt in so long he'd almost forgotten what it signified. 

He turned abruptly to Heero again. "Heero!" he hissed. "I'm _hungry_." 

Heero had several times tonight given him the world's most beautiful smile, one that expressed unequivocal happiness in Duo's current state and in Duo's own happiness, and he gave it again now. 

"I'm fucking hungry," Duo reiterated with a grin. 

"I made extra pasta salad just for you, you know. I hope the crunchy vegetables haven't gone soggy by now; it's not as good as leftovers." 

Duo hugged him tightly, momentarily unable to find words to tell him that soggy vegetables prepared by Heero especially for him sounded like the greatest food ever made, then attacked the refrigerator. Before he could get at the pasta salad, however, he had to examine pretty much everything else in the fridge and freezer: pick it all up, revel in the feeling of coldness his fingers could finally minutely discern again -- god, he had _fingers_ \-- and open just about everything and sniff at it. His mouth was watering, and he thought he was feeling a little sick to his stomach (he couldn't be 100% certain at this point) by the time he finally got to the rectangular Tupperware that held the pasta salad. _His_ pasta salad. The pasta salad made particularly for him by his wonderful boyfriend, who knew what this would mean to him. 

He pried off the lid and stared at the noodles and bits of shrimp and vegetables, and inhaled deeply. He thought he was going to cry. 

Turning slowly, he found Heero holding out a plate with that same smile again. "It's your first meal in eighty-seven years," he said. "You should do it right." 

"That would be easier if you had a dining table." 

"Great... are you going to start that too?" 

"Yes!" 

Heero leaned forward across what each of them was holding and gave Duo a brief kiss, then took the pasta salad from his hand and turned with it toward the counter and the drawer that held the silverware. Soon he had a full plate, accompanied by knife and fork, ready for Duo's use. 

Duo approached with great ceremony and took up the implements. He gave Heero a very grave look, then, slowly and _just_ a little clumsily, as he hadn't done it in so long, scooped and lifted a forkful. 

The sensation was so sharp and overwhelming -- suddenly, surprisingly so -- that he actually made a startled noise through his full mouth, and so strong in contrast to all those years of nothing that the mere ability to taste food was entirely negating, for the moment, the ability to discern flavor. He had no idea what this tasted like, only that it _tasted_. And, though he'd never actually thought about the actions of chewing and swallowing, nor thought he specifically missed them, he found now, as he went about them, that tears were again running down his face. 

"I think that's the first time my pasta salad has made someone cry," Heero murmured. 

Duo wiped his face with the back of one hand and took another bite. 

The sauce was somehow tangy and buttery at the same time, the pasta was mild, the shrimp was pleasantly firm, and the vegetables (which, he would have to reassure Heero later, had retained a marvelous crispness) were an excellent, somewhat bitter contrast to the rest. "This is amazing," Duo mumbled through his third or fourth mouthful. 

Heero laughed and thanked him; but after a moment he added in some concern, "You'll make yourself sick if you don't slow down." 

"Uh-uh," Duo replied, and kept shoveling it in. 

Heero was right, though. Duo had barely finished the contents of the plate, and was attempting to wash it down with a glass of water that Heero had poured for him, when it all came up again. His abused stomach gave a painful heave and him no chance to aim responsibly, and he lost the too-hastily-consumed meal onto the floor at random. 

Vomiting, he noted, felt just as horrible, tasted just as nasty, and resulted in just as disgusting a mess as it ever had... which was why it was really quite strange that he'd almost kindof enjoyed it. Stomach still a little sore and throat burning, he turned guilty eyes up toward Heero, who had stepped away. 

"You told me so," Duo said. 

"I did," Heero agreed, mostly stifling a rueful grin and beginning to pick his way around the disaster. "Come on," he said, taking Duo by the arm. "You'll have to go a little easier on breakfast tomorrow." And he led him down the hall. 

"I'm sorry," Duo said. "All over the kitchen..." 

"Seems pretty natural to me." Heero took Duo into the bathroom, where he began rummaging through drawers. "I'm sure I have a..." He stood straight again, holding up a toothbrush two-pack with one remaining brush. Facetiously he finished, "I assume you know how to use this?" 

Duo accepted the offer and answered in a mock huff, "We _had_ toothbrushes, thank you very much." 

"Good." Heero then pointed out the toothpaste and added, "I'll go clean up the kitchen." 

"I'm not sure how long I'm going to survive," Duo told him loudly as he left the room, "before I die of how nice you are." 

"Would you prefer me to be mean?" Heero called back. 

Duo would have answered, but was too distracted by the toothpaste. It looked much the same as the Pepsodent and Ipana he remembered -- just a greyish-white sort of cream stuff -- but it smelled better, and, once he got it into his mouth, _definitely_ proved to taste better than what they'd used back then. And, good god, he had _teeth_. He could rub the brush all over them at different angles, get all their different sides, feel the slight burn of the toothpaste on his gums -- he had _gums!_ \-- and even feel a bit of a gag reflex when he pushed the brush too far toward the back of his mouth. 

So engrossed was he in this process that when he noticed Heero standing in the doorway watching him with evident amusement, he couldn't be sure he hadn't been there for quite a while. Whether he had or not, it was a good reminder to Duo that, fantastic as his teeth were, he had plenty of time ahead of him to enjoy them and there was really no need to spend any more on them right now. 

Once he was all rinsed and finished, he placed the toothbrush (with more than a little thrill) in the cup that held Heero's, then turned. "All clean!" he announced. 

Heero made a businesslike gesture. "Let's see." And, pulling Duo close, he kissed him exploringly. When he drew away at last, he gave a satisfied nod. "Now you taste like toothpaste." 

Duo grinned. "OK, there's one more thing I want to see." 

This quickly turned out to be a lie, or at least an understatement: there were, in fact, about a million more things Duo wanted to see. Granted, some of these were things he'd already seen, just from different angles; but in any case Heero accompanied him throughout with the same look of patient amusement on his face (though as time passed this was more and more frequently split by yawns) as Duo went over everything in the apartment with continual excitement, much of it for the second time. 

It was coming up on four in the morning when Duo became aware of a new sensation, another feeling he hadn't experienced in eighty-seven years and almost didn't recognize at first. When he did, he was nearly brought to tears again. Instead, abandoning his inspection of the bowl Heero had taken Quatre's dog water in last Thursday, he turned once more to his companion, gripping his arm and grinning somewhat manically at him as he announced, "Heero, I'm tired!" 

"Are you really? Finally?" Heero asked, also grinning. "I was starting to think you were going to end up staying up all night." 

"I probably would have, if I hadn't had so much excitement." But now all of a sudden Duo was thinking about curling up with Heero in bed, having him so warm and close by as he'd longed to for so many nights, and sleeping... _sleeping_... "Let's go to bed," he suggested, and it came out in a whisper that was yet deeply enthusiastic. 

Smiling warmly, Heero moved to turn off the light in the kitchen. "Good idea." Then he took Duo's hand, and they headed down the hall back toward the bedroom. 

There were still a huge number of experiences to be had, but Duo would get to them later. In fact, sleep, rather than an interruption of his pursuits, was simply another thing on the list -- and not a small one, either. That he would have Heero by his side for his first night's sleep in almost a century -- something he certainly had not expected up until just a few hours ago -- made everything that much closer to perfect. And it hadn't been that far from it to begin with.


	93. Part 92

Trowa hadn't slept a minute last night, not even after Quatre had completely worn him out and gone to sleep himself with arms clasping Trowa possessively. Circumstances were simply too agitating. 

After eighty-seven years, he had forgotten what it was like not to be cursed, and he'd rather anticipated general sensations more distinctly different than they'd turned out to be. But he felt essentially the same as he had yesterday, and, though he didn't really mind, the _lack_ of difference was disconcerting. It wasn't what he'd expected. He wondered how Duo, who had changed a good deal more, was feeling. 

It was the thought of Duo, primarily, that had kept him awake. He understood why Quatre had dragged him out of there last night, but still he was dying to see his friend. He wouldn't _really_ feel that the curse was broken until he did. 

Quatre had pulled himself wearily out of bed early this morning and gone over to his own house to shower and change, then come back here to give Trowa a rather frustrated kiss and a longing look before leaving through Heero's apartment for the airport. Trowa had promised to attempt to jump to him this afternoon and spare him the flight home. 

And now, agonizing hours later, Trowa was sitting around idly surfing the internet and wondering whether or not it was still too early to go to Heero's apartment. Someone that woke Duo from his first sleep in ninety years would probably meet with a violent death, but Trowa was just so desperate to see him... He had no idea what Heero and Duo might be doing if they _did_ happen to be awake, though he doubted they would appreciate its being interrupted, whatever it was... but he wanted to see him... And Duo had the whole world to experience now he was human again... but Trowa still wanted... 

There came a knock at the front door, and at its emphatic sound Trowa was instantly out of his chair and the room. It seemed he'd barely gotten the door unlocked, with hands that felt clumsy and slow, when Duo was hugging him. But 'hugging' wasn't the right word. 'Crushing all the air out of, throwing completely off-balance, half-deafening, and inspiring tears in' would have been a better description. 

"Trowa!" Duo was shouting. "Trowa, look at us! I can hug you for real now! It worked! Check it out, I'm crying again! Your skin's back to normal! Oh, let me see your eyes!" As Duo abruptly pulled away, his jerky movement almost toppled both of them, and he laughed. "Sorry, I'm still a little-- oh, my god, look at your eyes... they're back to normal..." And he flung his arms around Trowa again, and again sent them both staggering a few steps -- this time right into the clock, which gave off a not-unpleasant jangling sound as its weights were rattled. Duo laughed again. "It worked. Oh, my god, it worked." 

Trowa just tried to hold onto him, the tears pouring down his own face once more, overwhelmed by the final, certain knowledge that it was really over; the curse was really broken; Duo, human and healed and happy, was here holding him. He'd forgiven Trowa for what had happened so long ago, and it was all behind them now. _It was over._

Duo finally calmed and quieted enough to ask in a more level tone, "So how are you feeling? Everything's OK now, right?" 

Nodding as Duo finally released him and looked at him with a more serious, critical eye, Trowa wiped tears away and said, "Yes, everything's fine. More than fine. How are you?" 

"I still sometimes fall over," Duo admitted, though he was grinning as he said it, "and there's other parts of having a human body that I've totally forgotten... but I'll figure it all out. I'm just so glad to see you like this!" 

Again Trowa nodded, and this time he smiled as well. And then, as Duo began poking around the entry with eager curiosity, Trowa noticed Heero standing in the open door looking rather stiff. He'd never been in here, after all; Trowa couldn't help thinking back with some interest to when he'd had Heero in mind when he'd linked the door, only to find Quatre taking advantage of it instead. How differently than he'd expected everything had worked out! 

"Come in, Heero," he said, smiling at him too, "and close the door." 

Heero obeyed, and immediately Trowa went to him, reaching out to clasp Heero's hand and shake it with both of his own. He hoped -- indeed, he suspected -- that Heero would understand how meaningful such a physical gesture was from Trowa, even more than his statement, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Heero said quietly. He looked distinctly apologetic, and Trowa thought they reached an understanding in that moment without words: they could forget everything that had passed and become friends. They knew very little of each other, but they cared about the same people, and that was definitely enough for a start. 

Trowa drew back and said, a little hesitantly, "So, you two..." 

Heero nodded. Although this was all the confirmation Trowa needed, Duo also answered the half-formed question. He came bounding from where he'd progressed some distance into the computer room, and ran into Heero, flinging arms around his neck apparently as much to stop and steady himself as to hug him. "Heero and I are _lovarz_," he announced. "L-O-V- A-R-Z- Z-Z-Z." And he kissed Heero on the cheek. 

Heero blushed, but all he said was, "I don't think you need quite that many Z's." 

Duo nuzzled his face into Heero's neck. "You deserve _all_ the Z's." 

Trowa smiled. 

"So-- so-- so--" Duo pulled away abruptly from Heero and turned toward Trowa again. "You and Quatre! I heard that rumor!" 

"Yes," Trowa replied; it was his turn to blush. 

"That is so great," Duo said heartily. He launched himself from Heero to Trowa, and hugged the latter again. "I'm so glad. I was thinking all along that you guys are perfect for each other. But why didn't you tell me?" 

Trowa wasn't exactly comfortable explaining in front of Heero, who still rather felt like a stranger to him, but neither did he want to refuse Duo anything. So he forced himself to say, "I'm sorry. I wanted to, but... I felt like I was... letting you down by allowing myself to be distracted." 

Duo had released him and stood back, but, on hearing this, hugged him again tightly. "Oh, Trowa," he said. "I'm so sorry you felt like that. Because I was hoping all along that you and Quatre would get together. And not just because he fits our number pattern!" 

Trowa smiled, simultaneously amused at the comment and glad of the subject shift. "He does, doesn't he?" 

"Yes! So the only odd one out is Heero, unless rhyming with 'zero' counts." 

Heero shrugged. "If you squint, you could believe my name is a reference to a Japanese word for 'one person.'" 

"Oh, really?" Duo sounded very interested. "But what is it actually supposed to be? I mean, if you don't squint?" 

"The kanji for my name actually mean a bright red color, like blood." 

"I don't know what kanji is, but that's sexy as hell." 

Heero looked pleased. 

After this, Duo detached himself from his lovar and resumed his foray through Trowa's house. "Quatre told me about how crazy this place is," he said eagerly, "and I've been dying to see it. This is the _same_ Victrola, isn't it?" 

Trowa, following him, confirmed this guess. 

"Wow, and some of these have got to be the same records from back then, too!" Duo didn't sound entirely certain, though, and no wonder: Trowa had only bought the machine and started collecting records a few months before the curse. Duo was right again, though, and Trowa said so. Then he helped get a record playing, and stood back to watch as Duo examined everything else in the room to the sound of Phil Napoleon. This exploration seemed to be half out of curiosity, and half to satisfy a desire to pick up and touch as many things as he could. Trowa looked on with a growing sense of joy and relief, and found that, even when the memories Duo called up in exclaiming over his possessions were bittersweet, the bitterness faded first. 

When Duo was finished with the computer room and its contents, he bounced across to the study and kept at it there. And as they followed him, Heero remarked in quiet amusement, "He spent most of the night doing this at my place." 

"We'll have to take him to Quatre's next." 

"Through your front door?" 

Trowa nodded, a gesture Heero mimicked slightly as if this had confirmed a guess. 

Then from Duo, who had found his way over to the work table, came the interested call, "Hey, Trowa..." 

Glancing in that direction, Trowa knew immediately what Duo wanted. "Yes," he said, moving to where Duo stood, "that's it." 

Duo was frowning down at the artifact. One hand moved briefly, as if he were about to reach out and touch it or pick it up, but fell back before it had lifted more than a few inches. "What are you going to do with it?" 

"Destroy it, as soon as I know there's nothing more I specifically need it for." 

Duo nodded thoughtfully, then slowly turned away, putting his back to the artifact in what seemed a deliberate gesture. Trowa wasn't surprised to see him give no real indication that this was the object that had made his life so excessively long and difficult... though he also wouldn't have been terribly surprised if Duo had spared it a middle finger or two before leaving it behind him. 

Heero had drawn closer to where they stood, and now joined Trowa in looking down at the table. "A candlestick?" he said, somewhat blankly. At Trowa's nod he went on, "I would have expected..." But he trailed off and shook his head with a shrug. 

"Something that seemed more magical?" Trowa finished for him, smiling slightly. "That's what Quatre said." 

"Wow, Trois, where did you get this chair? _Why_ did you get this chair?" Duo had flopped down into the article in question, and was now bouncing slightly and laughing. "This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen!" 

"Quatre said that too," Trowa admitted. 

"It's a pretty awesome ugly, though. And it's really comfy! Heero, you should get a chair like this." 

For a moment Trowa, blushing faintly, imagined that Duo was aware of what he'd done with Quatre in that chair, and that there was more than one layer to this suggestion to Heero -- but he got hold of himself and said nothing. Heero just made a disdainful noise to let Duo know what he thought of the proposal. 

In an impulsive movement, Duo rose and hugged Trowa. "I can sit in chairs again!" he exulted. 

Trowa would have pointed out that, technically, Duo had always been able to sit in chairs... if he weren't still, out of residual guilt and a desire not to injure Duo further, reluctant to tease his friend. Duo was closer today to treating Trowa the way he used to than he had been since they'd reunited -- but it still wasn't quite the same, and Trowa doubted it ever would be again. The curse was broken and forgiven, but it could not be so easily forgotten. He could not expect a relationship like what they'd had; he wondered what he _could_ expect. 

"Technically, you always could," said Heero, earning himself a stuck-out tongue from Duo and a startled look from Trowa. But after the initial surprise, all the statement really did was remind Trowa that, while Duo might not have the same closeness with his old friend that he'd once had, he wasn't alone. Neither of them was alone, nor even unhappy; time and circumstances were on their side. But even if their friendship never did completely mend, and even if it stung a little to think of someone else closer to and easier with Duo than he was, he was glad Duo had been able to find someone like that. 

So, although he wasn't _perfectly_ content, although he still had a long road to travel before everything would be right again, he felt he had all he could ask for in this -- indeed, more than he would have thought to ask for -- and that he could continue to celebrate, with his friends, the end of a long era of sorrow.


	94. Part 93

It had been an effort like none he could remember for Quatre to keep his mind on work today. Like a strong spring snapping back into place, it wanted to retract from the task of giving half the staff clearance reapproval, and the tedious ins and outs of system organization, to the exponentially more interesting topic of his friends whose curse was at last broken. 

Of course he'd hurried Trowa out of Heero's apartment last night -- it really had been the only option at the time -- then done his best to distract him so he wouldn't be tempted to wander back in there before it was appropriate to do so... but that didn't mean Quatre himself wasn't burning up with curiosity and the wish to see and congratulate Duo (though he knew full well that his desire could only ever hope to be a fraction as strong as Trowa's was). He flattered himself that Duo would be pleased to see him too, and, besides, that Duo was certain to be glad of congratulations from anyone offering them. It would surely be an interesting meeting. 

Heero too was in need of congratulating, since things had evidently finally gone his way. Quatre was very glad of it, though he would be glad of a little more confirmation than just the kiss he'd impartially witnessed last night. He hoped they would be happy together. He thought they would be good for each other. 

And besides all of this, of course, there was also the very simple fact that he wasn't yet done admiring un-cursed and still-alive Trowa. He'd made a fairly extensive exploration of him last night (which was why he'd needed an unusually great amount of caffeine this morning), but it was going to take a while before he was really satisfied. The long and short of it was that he didn't want to be here. 

Fortunately, he had this recovering-from-a-system-failure thing down to a sort of science, and could usually make a fairly accurate estimate beforehand of how long he would need to spend and what time he could reasonably expect to be able to leave. Today's prediction was 4:00, and, though he had purchased a plane ticket for 5:55, he'd also requested that Trowa attempt to jump to him in the hopes that he would not have to return to the airport at all. 

If 4:15 arrived without bringing Trowa, Quatre was to assume he wasn't yet capable of using Quatre as a destination, and call his cab as usual. He hoped Trowa would succeed, though, for more reasons than one: of course it would be much quicker and more convenient, eat up less of his evening pointlessly than the flight, and thereby give him more time to talk to Trowa and Duo and admire their state of humanity... but he also hoped for success because of what it would say about his relationship with Trowa -- a statement that would be pleasing to him and, he hoped, specifically affirming to Trowa. 

So at 4:00 he let himself into an empty conference room and stood quietly waiting in the dark, fingers (at least mentally) crossed. And he was more pleased even than he'd expected when Trowa arrived. 

He appeared quite close to Quatre, though the angle of his body prevented more than about half-contact. This Quatre immediately rectified, however, by pulling Trowa fully against him and reaching up to kiss him leisurely. 

"You did it!" he said when he withdrew. "It worked!" 

Trowa smiled at him. Though this had been less infrequent of late than when they'd first met, it still made Quatre's pulse quicken slightly. He had a feeling it always would. "Yes," said Trowa. "It was easier than I thought." 

Quatre also smiled, broadly. "Does it help that I was wishing for you?" 

"Maybe." Without any great or easily discernible alteration of expression, Trowa looked pleased. 

Quatre rose up on tip-toe to aim a kiss at a freckle on Trowa's temple. "I don't think I got them all last night," he said thoughtfully. He would have gone on, but an irresistible yawn came out instead. 

Trowa caught it and yawned as well. "I'll tell you what you didn't get last night..." 

Quatre chuckled. "Wow, the curse breaking really _has_ changed things if _you're_ talking to _me_ about not getting enough sleep." 

"If you want your turn," Trowa replied gravely, "I'll tell you: _I_ didn't sleep _at all_ last night." 

"Trowa! You didn't go sneaking over there bothering Heero and Duo!" 

"No, I just thought about it all night. But they came over and spent several hours at my house today. Actually, they just left when I said I needed to pick you up. They invited us over for dinner; I hope you don't mind I accepted on your behalf, if we could manage to get you there in time." 

Quatre grinned. "No, not at all. I'll be happy to see Duo eating, I'm sure. And then you and I can go to bed early, and if it's early enough we won't even have to go straight to sleep." 

Again Trowa looked pleased. "This sounds like a perfect evening, then." And he reached down and clasped Quatre around the waist in order to make the jump. 

A further report from Trowa indicated that the others had gone shopping -- first, to get some dinner components Heero needed; second, to find some shoes for Duo, who was apparently having trouble fitting into Heero's; third, because Duo, who said he felt like a long-time shut-in, just really wanted to. So Quatre had time to admire Trowa's freckles and natural green eyes for a while. 

The wanderers' return was heralded by an energetic knocking on Trowa's door that Quatre assumed, just based on its sound, could only be coming from the hand of Duo -- and so it proved. Quatre opened the door and found himself facing someone whose face he'd never before seen, but who was very familiar. 

"Quatre!" Duo flung himself enthusiastically at him for a hug that crushed the breath right out of him. "Hi!!" 

"Hi, Duo!" Quatre laughed as soon as he was able. "You're looking good!" 

Duo made a long, pleased affirmative noise like a sort of small yell, and finally drew back. Studying his pleasant features, which now held every bit of expressiveness they'd so conspicuously lacked before, Quatre could do nothing but widen his own grin. 

In a tone that was much like that of a father conducting a suspicious examination of his child's first date, "So I hear you've got this thing going with my best friend," Duo said. 

"Well, what about you and mine?" Quatre countered. 

Duo gave him a transported look and sighed dreamily. "We're _wonderful_," he breathed. It was so very overdone that Quatre had to laugh. Then Duo went on in a more matter-of-fact tone, "He bought me shoes! See?" And pointed down at his feet like a proud child with a new toy. 

When Quatre had admired these appropriately, Duo dragged him through Trowa's door into Heero's apartment so as to involve Heero in the conversation too. Quatre got the feeling that Duo didn't much like being separated from Heero, even only by a few yards. It made sense, he supposed -- Duo had gotten used to being within five feet of Heero at all times, and there was probably still a lingering, irrational fear of what might happen if they were too long apart. Knowing that Heero appreciated just a little bit of clinginess, Quatre couldn't help thinking this could only be a herald of good things. 

Trowa, who had slipped past them through his entryway, was already in Heero's kitchen, and Quatre was pleased to see him taking instructions from Heero as he had last night. For those two to get to know each other, become better friends, was one of Quatre's dearest wishes at the moment. 

Remembering something else from last night, "So, Heero," Quatre said, advancing to the edge of the linoleum, "when _are_ you going to start learning how to cast spells?" 

Heero glanced over at him. He was well aware that he was being teased, but his answer was just a calm shrug. 

Quatre turned to Duo. "You don't know how embarrassed he was when you told him _you'd_ been the one to awaken his magical potential." 

Duo's eyes seemed to spark. "Really?" 

"Probably not as embarrassed as _I_ was," Quatre went on, just to make things fair, "when I thought Trowa might be able to read my mind, though." 

"Quatre! Were you having dirty thoughts?" Duo demanded, stifling a grin in favor of a not-very-successful attempt at a stern expression. 

"The worst part of it was that I still thought he was with _you_ at the time." Quatre didn't mind laughing, nor relating the details of that particular instance for Duo's amusement. 

The rest of the night went very much like this; there were myriad little moments, misinterpreted statements, and utterly missed cues to be explained on most sides, and a lot of blushing and laughter. And while complete honesty on all topics was not yet possible, they mostly managed without real awkwardness or unhappiness. Duo's joy at being human again, which apparently could not be expressed too frequently, served to smooth over anything that threatened to become truly uncomfortable, and in general the group dynamic was good. 

And it was unexpectedly gratifying, when the little party broke up, to feel that everyone knew where everyone else stood -- and was going at the moment! -- and approved. To see a smile on every face -- even Trowa's -- as they said their goodnights; to see Heero take Duo's hand when he thought no one was looking; to walk with Trowa back into his house secure in the knowledge that everything had turned out right after all... Quatre didn't think he'd ever been happier.


	95. Part 94

When Heero's alarm sounded on Wednesday morning, his first response, as was frequently the case, was to hit the snooze button. But as he struggled into wakefulness and felt the warmth at his side, it occurred to him that the sleeping Duo didn't really need to hear the buzzer go off as many times as was often required to get Heero out of bed. So he made an effort, forced his eyes to stay open, sat up, and turned off the alarm entirely. 

Duo shifted and abruptly threw an arm around Heero's waist. "Nooooo," he groaned. Smiling, Heero bent and hugged him, somewhat awkwardly because of how they were arranged, and found himself looking into sleepy half-lidded eyes. "You hafta stay within five feet of me," Duo muttered tiredly. 

Heero kissed his cheek. "After work I will." And, really, at the moment, he wanted nothing in the world more than just to sink down into Duo's embrace and go back to sleep at his side... but he seriously couldn't afford to miss more work. 

Not without a noise of protest, Duo allowed Heero to extricate himself from limb and bedding, then curled up on his side hugging Heero's pillow. Heero smiled down at him for a moment, then turned away to get ready. 

Last night before they'd gone to bed (or what passed as going to bed in a new relationship), they'd discussed today and made arrangements for anything Duo was likely to want to do while Heero was at work. All of Heero's pants were a little short on Duo, but his shorts functioned perfectly well, so clothing was not a problem now that they'd found Duo some tennis shoes that fit. Duo had made several suggestive comments about wearing Heero's clothes, to which Heero had finally been in a good position to respond properly. 

Heero had given him the last spare key to the apartment in case (as he had no doubt) Duo wanted to go wandering; Heero had also given him his cell phone number in case (as he had little less doubt) he then got lost and needed to figure out where he was. He wished he had a cell phone to give him as well, but it was nothing odd that he didn't have a spare one of those lying around. 

All the cash currently in his possession had gone over to Duo too, and this for some reason had rendered Duo somewhat misty-eyed. Heero was getting used to (and, indeed, rather enjoying) Duo tearing up over random things, and had watched in pleasure and amusement as Duo painstakingly identified the various pieces of currency and added up the total with intense satisfaction. It was the first money to be in his possession in a very long time, and he'd had interesting comments to make about the size and the designs. 

After all of this, and a lot of accompanying and rather silly discussion of what Duo could and could not (or, rather, probably _should_ not) do within the apartment, Heero was not concerned about Duo's ability to keep himself entertained all day without having to resort to television; but he still didn't want to leave him. He was looking down at him again now as he did up his tie, noting that Duo seemed to have gone back to sleep in earnest and unclenched somewhat from his possessive curl around the pillow, and he found that the wish to crawl back into bed with him and hold him until they both woke up at their leisure -- as they had yesterday -- had not diminished. 

It wasn't just that it was early and bed was comfortable; Heero found he simply didn't want to go through an entire day without Duo at his side. He'd known he was attached to having Duo close by at all times, but he hadn't realized how much it was going to bother him when that was no longer the case. Once he had his jacket on and was essentially ready to leave, he found himself still standing silently staring down, unwilling to move. Finally, though, sluggishly, he shook himself, and bent to kiss Duo's cheek once more before heading out. 

It proved, as he really should have anticipated, the most unproductive work-day he'd ever experienced. None of the previous distractions -- checking on a magical message board at frequent intervals, pondering whether the doll on his end table might really be a cursed human, mulling over Duo's relationship with Trowa and his own feelings on the matter -- none of it had been anywhere near this bad. 

Between wondering what Duo was up to, wishing Duo were here or that he were at home with Duo, forgetting that Duo was _not_ here and turning to say something to him and finding the desk empty, and the thought of Duo's human limbs and skin and face and his warmth and the signs of attachment he'd given and their future together, it would be nothing short of a miracle, Heero thought, if he came out of the day with one single item of legitimate business completed. 

Dorothy, rather than chiding him, merely rolled her eyes with one of her knowing smiles -- and although the latter did look rather condescending, Dorothy's smiles always did, and she didn't seem upset with him. On the contrary, she seemed deliberately to be trying to draw off their co-workers' questions to herself, as far as she could, so as to leave Heero in relative peace. He wondered what she thought was going on. 

The distraction, oddly enough, actually made it easier to put up with Wufei. Indeed, the latter had been going on about something in a comic book -- apparently there was a movie coming out? and it was destined to suck? or something? -- for several minutes before Heero even realized he was speaking. Glancing at his computer clock, he was startled to see that it was almost lunch time. Had he really made it all the way through half the day already? He was doing better than he'd thought. He wished Duo were here. 

But wait. He could _go home_ for lunch. Quatre had been making the trip to Heero's apartment during lunch for a while, hadn't he? There wouldn't be a huge amount of time, given how long the drive would take, but he could go home and see Duo before tackling the rest of the day. 

So exciting was this thought that he almost got up right then and there and headed out to his car; but he forced himself instead to remain in his seat and continue making noises at Wufei as if he was listening -- something about someone's weakness being the color yellow? no, he couldn't really have just heard that -- and wait out the last quarter hour or so before he could go to lunch with impunity. 

With two minutes left on the clock and Wufei having expanded into the territory of the failures of comic book movies in general, Heero's cell phone unexpectedly rang. It was an unfamiliar local number, and he was tempted to ignore it entirely, but the awareness that it could possibly be Duo prompted his hand rather to dart for the device more quickly than he would have moved if it had been a caller he recognized. 

"Hello?" he said a little breathlessly, interrupting and thus silencing Wufei. 

"Heero, I figured out the phone all by myself!" 

Heero could not have predicted the flood of joy and the increase in heart rate he would experience at hearing Duo's voice after so many hours apart. Was this how a parent felt after a child's very first day at school? No, that was creepy. He had no proper analogy. It felt wonderful; that was all. 

"Was it difficult?" he answered Duo's cheerful statement. 

"Nope. I just pushed the numbers and it went right through. This is my first phone call! As a human, I mean." 

"You never talked on the phone at all before?" Heero wondered. "Didn't they have them back then?" In glancing around, he found Wufei still there, giving him a strange and, in fact, perhaps somewhat worried look -- whether in response to his odd words or the unusual joy in his face and tone, Heero could not guess and did not care. He gestured apologetically, locked his computer, and stood. 

"Yeah, rich people did. I think Trowa even had one, after he started being rich. I just never happened to use one. Hey, they're starting to give me weird looks here; I don't think they like people just walking in and asking to use the phone without buying anything." 

"Where are you?" Heero was heading out of the cubicle now, not paying the slightest attention to how Wufei was reacting to all of this. 

"The McDonald's up the street from your apartment. Um, I don't know which street." 

"I bet I know which one it is," Heero grinned. "Stay there, and I'll come meet you." 

Duo gave a very pleased, "Oh!" and followed it up with, "OK! I'll see you in a minute, then." 

So lunch went unexpectedly well. Heero wasn't a big fan of McDonald's, but he hardly noticed what he was eating in the pleasure of seeing Duo enjoying food -- and seeing Duo at all. Plus he got some kisses out of it, which won them some scandalized looks from other customers that Heero was better able to ignore than he would ever have thought he could be. And then he went back to work even more distracted than before. 

And he found that, whatever the provocation -- be it Wufei's incomprehensible talk, Dorothy's condescension, or being forced to make up a reason why he no longer had a doll on his desk and a whole new wave of resultant curiosity from his other co-workers -- with the bolstering memory of that happy lunch with Duo and the evening and night with Duo to look forward to, he could put up with just about anything.


	96. Part 95

  


"Thank you for not asking if I'm sure I can handle this." 

Seated on his bed beside Trowa, Quatre leaned over and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. "See? I'm getting better." 

"I didn't think that was possible..." Trowa murmured. 

Quatre grinned. "And _you're_ getting better at flirting." 

Trowa inclined his head gravely. 

"And, as a matter of fact, I _know_ you can handle this. You've proved you _can_ deal with people; you just don't _like_ to." 

"That's mostly true," Trowa admitted. "I really am not very skilled at it, though." 

"Well, practice makes perfect." 

Almost under his breath Trowa said, "Why you would ever want to be perfect at something like that..." 

"My poor Trowa," Quatre laughed, hugging him. "You've gotten pretty good at dealing with _me_, though." 

"You're not 'people.'" 

"Thank you. I think." Quatre glanced at his watch. "It's probably about time. Let's go down." And, standing, he pulled Trowa up after him and gave him another quick kiss before heading for the door. 

They met his mother on the landing. "Oh," she said, "were you up here all along? I didn't even see you come in." Quatre thought she was more surprised at the way Trowa looked, though, than that they'd somehow been in Quatre's room without anyone observing them enter the house. "It's good to see you again, Trowa," she smiled, obviously restraining herself from searching his face curiously. They'd decided to claim that Trowa had just recovered from fairly serious anemia if anyone asked about his newly-healthy coloration, but Quatre anticipated that his parents would be too polite to comment and his nephews wouldn't remember clearly enough to wonder. 

When everyone ate together -- well, even when two thirds of them ate together -- they had to use the larger dining room with its improbably long table and ornate wainscotting. As they entered, Trowa looked around with just the faintest constriction of brows; he'd already expressed to Quatre the feeling he had in certain parts of this house, like nostalgia but not as comfortable, as he was reminded of places he'd sometimes been invited to during that brief part of his life he would most like to forget. But he didn't balk, and was quietly courteous as he was introduced to those he hadn't met yet. As this consisted of six different people, the shaking of hands and friendly greetings made it some time before everyone was seated. 

Dinner conversation around here was always lively and somewhat random, though there was usually an underlying or recurring theme of Winner Plastics since that topic could easily fill any gap. This allowed Trowa to remain silent throughout most of the meal; certain of Quatre's housemates at times sought to include him in the conversation, but, though he answered politely enough, it wasn't difficult to tell that he'd rather listen than talk, so eventually they kindly let him be. Quatre was pleased. He had always thought well of his family, but it was moments like this that made him actively proud. 

He'd been almost certain that this was one of those nights when his parents would want to indulge in an after-dinner brandy in the adjoining parlor -- an old-fashioned habit they'd mostly abandoned but still conveniently revived whenever they had (for example) a new significant other of one of their children to interrogate. He'd warned Trowa earlier of this probability when he'd briefed him on how the evening in general was likely to go, so Trowa was able to acquiesce to the invitation without any apparent surprise or displeasure. 

The routine was nothing unfamiliar to Quatre. Even when he'd been too young to understand what was going on, he'd watched his sisters and the dates they brought home go through this, and he'd experienced it himself a number of times. But he'd never cared quite so much before. This was only in part because he liked Trowa better than he'd liked previous boyfriends; there was also the fact that Trowa had more to fabricate, and felt worse about having to do it, than previous boyfriends. 

And it was still surprising how well he pulled it off. Trowa might believe himself unskilled in dealing with people, but the way he combined (unless Quatre was very much mistaken) actual facts from his own life and plausible circumstances he'd observed over the years into a very believable-sounding history was remarkable, and his solemn and somewhat formal manner could come across as nothing less than trustworthy. 

In response to the various well-oiled questions put to him with utmost innocence, he told the Winners that he'd been born in 1985 in some town in Michigan that might, for all Quatre knew (he would have to ask sometime), be Trowa's actual place of birth. He didn't say much of his childhood, fictional or otherwise, and even in this partially false account seemed reluctant to mention his parents. Tactfully, Mr. and Mrs. Winner did not pursue the issue. Quatre himself, his curiosity aroused, decided that he must sometime see what Duo knew of the matter; that seemed the easiest way to get a general idea without having to ask Trowa what might be painful questions. 

Trowa claimed to have moved to this area after high school to stay with a more distant (and, he implied, much kinder) relative, and ended up attending the same college as Quatre. They'd decided on this beforehand, as it provided a way for them to have first met a little more believable than 'he found me by divination after Heero posted on a message board about the talking doll he picked out of the gutter,' and Quatre could provide any details Trowa needed to flesh out his remarks. 

The story they presented was that they'd known each other casually during school, had recently met again by coincidence, renewed the acquaintance, and after not too long started dating: nothing terribly unusual or exciting. As a sort of distraction tactic, they managed to spin a much more interesting tale out of the account of Trowa's best friend that had led the poor Pacific Division Sales Coordinator around in dizzy circles for over a month before admitting that he liked him. 

Quatre's parents had grown up in an era during which the phrase 'good breeding' had still meant something. Actually, now that he thought about it, that applied to Trowa too, didn't it? At any rate, Mr. and Mrs. Winner the excellent hosts had never been even the least bit unpleasant to any one of Quatre's boyfriends in the past, regardless of their real feelings about them. But Quatre had learned to read the signs, and could usually tell, as brandy/interrogation time was winding down, what their general opinion was of the latest subject. 

He knew Trowa had made a good first impression during their brief introduction, and tonight, to his great satisfaction, he thought he was picking up pleasure and tentative approbation from his parents in response to this longer meeting. They were hesitant anymore, he knew, about immediate approval, since they'd ended up disliking all of his past boyfriends -- even the ones they'd thought well of at first -- so this was the most positive reaction that could be expected of them. And it was enough for Quatre. He was absolutely certain they would come to love Trowa eventually; this was good for a start. 

"Well, Trowa, it's been wonderful getting to talk to you so much tonight," Mrs. Winner was saying politely as they began their slow exodus from the parlor. She was always perfectly friendly, and, though Quatre wasn't overly fond of the way she had of repeating the name of someone she'd recently met in just about every sentence she addressed to them, her poise was flawless. 

"Yes," agreed Mr. Winner, "feel free to come by any time. Though," he added with a smile, "I suspect you already do." 

Trowa favored them with a slight smile of his own. "Thank you for having me," he said. 

Their further goodbyes and goodnights were conducted with the same good will, and the fact that Quatre and Trowa were pretty obviously heading upstairs for Quatre's bedroom did not garner any reaction different than if they'd been walking out the front door. Quatre knew his parents hadn't been nearly so relaxed about the idea of their children's sexual activities -- especially in the house -- back when his first couple of sisters had reached dating age... but, then, that _had_ been in the 70's. There were benefits to being the youngest of ten (not least of which the fact that there had been three lesbians before him to pave the way of understanding and equity). Just as they began climbing the final stretch of the great staircase and were about to put the first floor entirely out of sight, Quatre glanced back and saw his parents still standing together down there looking up after him; he smiled at them. 

As he closed his bedroom door, Trowa beside him let out a long breath and seemed to wilt somewhat, leaning forward against the wall as if exhausted. With a pitying noise that was half a laugh, Quatre took his hand and pulled him over to the bed. 

"You're brilliant," he said, pushing Trowa into a seated position and crawling onto the bed behind him. "And I think they really liked you." Settling down cross-legged, he began to massage Trowa's shoulders and back, trying to release some of the tension that had gathered there during the last hour. 

"I'm glad," Trowa said, sounding a little dull. "But I don't like having to tell so many lies. If it were somebody I'm never going to see again, or somebody I didn't care about, it would be different, but..." He shook his head. 

Though he pitied Trowa, it was difficult for Quatre to feel anything but happiness at this implication from him that the Winners were neither transient nor unimportant; that seemed like a real breakthrough. "We'll tell them the truth eventually," he said reassuringly. "As soon as they realize how wonderful you are and how crazy I am about you." One step at a time, after all; when his parents were already worrying about Quatre in another relationship -- in their minds a fairly significant concern, given the precedent -- they didn't need the added complication that the new boyfriend was a 111-year-old magician and had once cursed his best friend to live as a talking doll for ninety years. 

Trowa half-turned to meet Quatre's eye. He looked simultaneously weary with the entire situation, as if the bulk of human relationships was just too taxing for him to continue thinking about at the moment, and pleased with Quatre's words. "That's good," he said tiredly, "because I won't be able to remember which details I included in this story. I should have made notes." 

Quatre laughed a little, and, taking Trowa's arm, pulled at him as he scrambled backward. "Come here," he said. Trowa obeyed, and soon they were cuddled up comfortably on the pillows, Trowa settling against Quatre with a sigh that sounded far more contented than his previous. 

After a few moments of warm silence during which they just held each other comfortably and drowsed a bit, Trowa said simply and quietly, "I'm crazy about you too." 

Having seen fresh proof in Trowa's willingness to endure such a trying evening full of strangers and cross-examination for his sake, Quatre was already aware of this -- but that didn't mean it didn't make his heart burn beautifully to hear it spoken aloud. He held Trowa more tightly, pressed a kiss to the first spot his lips could find, and smiled against his lover's soft brown hair.


	97. Part 96

As Heero was preparing to leave for lunch on a Wednesday afternoon the week after the breaking of the curse, he received an email from building security that said only, _Visitor in entry_. Entertained as always by the fact that there was anyone in the company more terse than he was via email, and wondering who the visitor was, Heero gathered his things and made his way down. What was his surprise and delight to find Duo himself waiting in the entry, smiling broadly at the security guard and at Wufei; the latter two appeared to have been talking when Duo entered, and were now unabashedly staring at him without a word. 

"Surprise!" Duo greeted Heero as he approached. 

"How did you get here?" Heero wasted no time leading Duo out the door and away from the stares of his co-workers, though he knew it would be less easy evading the latter's questions later. 

"Quatre helped me figure out the bus system yesterday so I could come surprise you for lunch sometime." 

In the parking lot, not caring who might be looking, Heero kissed Duo intensely for a moment. "It's a wonderful surprise," he said. "What do you want to do for lunch?" 

"Let's go sit in that grocery store parking lot we used to," Duo grinned. 

Heero was even more pleased than he was probably letting on. He wasn't yet accustomed to the idea, perfectly normal though it was, of Duo having conversations entirely outside his hearing and knowledge; but he loved to see Duo developing such autonomy and figuring the world out so efficiently -- not least because the ability to do so made Duo so happy. 

They bought random items at the grocery store, then sat in the parking lot and ate them, reminiscing about the days not long ago when these lunchtimes had caused their levels of hope for such a circumstance as this to fluctuate rather wildly. Then they made out across the gear shift like high-schoolers (which one of them had never been) until it was time for Heero to go back. Past time, rather, but they couldn't bring themselves to move particularly quickly toward parting. 

As they were ambling away from Heero's car in the work parking lot, talking about something inconsequential, Duo broke off whatever he was saying to remark, "Oh, here comes eyebrow lady..." 

Heero looked up to see that Dorothy was indeed approaching across the lot, evidently making straight for them. Fearing some censure regarding his repeated (and today particularly egregious) lateness from lunch, Heero braced himself; but Dorothy came instead to Duo and reached out. 

"Congratulations," she said, sounding surprisingly sincere and invested. 

"Thanks!" Duo grinned, shaking the hand she'd offered. 

She looked him up and down. "It seems to have come off without a hitch." 

"Yeah, everything worked just fine! We were worried for a bit 'cause of something that happened one day near the end, but it turned out not to be anything after all." 

Heero stared from one to another, his brows lowering as he was faced with the only possible meaning of this exchange. Duo, seeing his expression, started to laugh and then abruptly looked thoughtful. "Oh, Heero, didn't... didn't she ever say anything...?" 

"You knew all along?" Heero wondered of Dorothy. 

"It was obvious from the beginning there was some kind of powerful magic about him," she shrugged, gesturing toward Duo. "So I did a few divinations to find out what was going on." Her tone and demeanor clearly indicated that she'd been watching with interest ever since then -- and that she'd been fully aware of Heero's ignorance of her abilities and laughing quietly up her sleeve at him the whole time. 

Heero turned back to his boyfriend. "_You_ could have said something." 

"You know I thought I had?" Duo shrugged, and turned to Dorothy. "So you're a diviner?" 

"Primarily. I've got a little necrovisua and a little command as well." 

"Oooh," said Duo admiringly. "I've always wanted to be necrovisual, but I'm just plain old command." 

"I've only got a little, though," she reiterated with a shrug. "I can't do much more than confirm presences; I refer people who need help to a real exorcist. But are you sure you don't have any? Can you be sure you can't see shades if no shades have ever come near you?" 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I must have been around some at some point in the last hundred years," Duo laughed. "Besides, I've got no communion or divination, so it'd be cross-circle anyway. I'm awesome, but I don't think I'm _that_ special." 

"How visionary are you?" 

"Just the usual command level." 

As Heero listened to this exchange, he found his surprise and slight annoyance melting away into amusement. He'd never heard Dorothy converse with such interest about anything before, and it occurred to him that nerds came in all shapes and colors. He would have liked to stay and listen longer, but instead broke in somewhat reluctantly, "I'm already late; Dorothy, I'll see you inside." 

"Kiss!" cried Duo, and swooped in to claim one. 

Once his mouth was free, blushing a little, Heero asked him quietly, "You'll be able to get home OK?" 

"Mm-hmm! Those bus stops won't know what hit them!" 

Heero had to grin. "OK. I'll see you later." And he turned away without looking at Dorothy. 

Inside, he made it all the way upstairs before his next encounter. He was traversing the hall that led to the sales floor when he heard the serious greeting, "Heero," in a voice from which he'd rather been expecting it. Turning to face Wufei, he found the dark, determined expression he'd also rather been expecting. Wufei came up to him and stopped, looking into his face with lowered brows. "It's none of my affair whom you're dating and whether or not you're cheating on anyone," he began. And wasn't it just like Wufei to start a conversation by announcing that what he was bringing up was none of his business? 

"Quatre and I were never dating," Heero interjected quickly and smoothly, having been ready with this. 

"So you say. Anyway, I couldn't help but notice that this new person showed up not long after you stopped bringing your Star Trek figure in to work, and what I wanted to know was: _does he know_?" 

"Know what?" 

"Oh, don't play the innocent with me." Wufei waved an imperious hand. "You're going to have to tell him sooner or later that you based your role-playing character off of him. He'll probably find it less creepy if you tell him sooner." 

Heero stood staring somewhat blankly at the glinting light on Wufei's glasses. Had it really come to this? Was he really being lectured in the hallway at work by Wufei Chang about the relative creepiness of the social behaviors of nerds? And had that same Wufei really just used the phrase, 'Don't play the innocent with me?' 

He _could not wait_ to tell Duo about this. 

"Thank you," he said in the most serious tone he could muster. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Wufei nodded sharply, and the conversation seemed to be at an end. As Heero turned away to resume his progress toward normalcy, though, he heard Wufei ask in a quieter tone, "So you... _are_ together with that guy?" And was it Heero's imagination, or did he sound just a little... forlorn... as he said it? 

"Yes," he replied firmly, without turning. 

So that left things mostly sorted at work. The general sales floor populace was satisfied with Heero's explanation that he'd gotten tired of answering questions about his doll and had decided not to bring him in anymore (and very few of them pointed out the incongruity that he never had actually answered most of the questions); Dorothy was unexpectedly on his side, or at least on Duo's side, which at the moment amounted to something similar; and Wufei was... whatever Wufei was. 

Soon everyone would forget that he'd ever had that embarrassing month, and everything would be back to normal. Except that it was a new normal, a normal that involved coming home to Duo every day -- and occasionally, by the looks of it, being surprised by him at lunch. And that was a sort of life alteration Heero could easily embrace.


	98. Part 97

  


Trowa wasn't entirely certain how he'd been talked into this. Eating with Heero and Duo had become fairly routine, it was true, but Duo was still nominally his best friend and Heero asked nothing of him. Eating with Quatre's family had been trying and not a great deal of fun, but he'd been more than willing to make the effort for the sake of having Quatre's parents' approval. This... this was completely different. He'd only met Heero's sister once, briefly, and knew nothing whatsoever of her fiance... and who would have thought the breaking of the curse would be the herald of so many _dinners_? 

He couldn't help looking back on those few months ever so long ago when he'd been a rising socialite of sorts, welcomed in many circles wherever a self-made man wasn't an object of disdain, and wonder where all his tolerance for people had gone. Not that he'd been much of a fan even then, but he'd at least been able to interact without difficulty, and take sufficient enjoyment from his private thoughts to make that interaction worth it. 

But, then, he'd lived very differently for the last eighty-seven years. His dealings with others had nearly all been business-related; he'd either been asking for something or being asked; there had always been an exchange of some sort that neatly took the place of any sociability. So how had he managed to get himself signed up for a friendly dinner at a restaurant with a group of people that included one he'd never met and another he barely knew? 

"It's not too late, you know... you could still go home." 

Ah, yes. That was how. 

"It's all right," he insisted. 

Quatre liked him. Trowa still didn't quite understand it, but (largely at the insistence of Quatre himself) he'd come to accept the fact. And Quatre deserved a real person for a boyfriend. Maybe it was unwise, maybe it was unhealthy, maybe it was rather pathetic to be considering changing for someone else's sake, but until he was in the right frame of mind to do it for his own, Trowa thought that the desire to make himself into something even a little more like the man Quatre deserved wasn't a bad place to start. And if the first step was to become slightly less reclusive, so be it. 

From the driver's seat, Quatre smiled at him. "At least we don't have to hide anything this time," he said encouragingly. 

It was a good, an _excellent_ point. Half of what had been so difficult about that long evening with Quatre's parents had been the inability, rare in the life of such an accomplished and sought-after magician, to tell them what he really was and the greater part of his real history. But, since Relena already knew and had evidently decided to share that knowledge with her fiance, this wouldn't be a problem tonight. 

The fiance didn't know yet, though, so they'd agreed to meet by conventional means at the restaurant where Relena and whatever the guy's name was were treating them all. Trowa wasn't used to riding in cars, so accustomed was he to traveling just about everywhere he went by magic; actually, the last time he'd been buckled into someone's passenger seat watching the city go by, it had been the same car driven by the same man a month and a half before. How things had changed since then! 

As a matter of fact, he realized as they pulled into the parking lot at their destination, even the same restaurant had been involved. 

"I didn't know we were coming _here_," he murmured as Quatre stopped the car. 

"You don't mind, do you?" Quatre sounded just the tiniest bit anxious. 

Wanting to reassure him, Trowa said in a deadpan, "Are you going to get me drunk again?" 

Quatre grinned. 

"How could I possibly mind revisiting the place where I first saw you?" Trowa added more quietly. 

After reaching briefly to squeeze Trowa's hand, Quatre got out of the car. 

Duo and Heero had been shut up in the bedroom doing... something or other... when Trowa and Quatre had passed through the apartment on the way out, but it appeared they'd left not long after and driven faster, for here they were pulling into the next space at almost the same moment. Trowa knew practically nothing about modern cars, but even he noticed how odd Heero's aged white thing looked next to Quatre's shiny plum-colored one. But he thought their vehicles suited them, somehow, and saw nothing wrong with the contrast. 

"Look!" cried Duo, jumping out. "I have some clothes of my own now!" 

"It's about time!" Quatre said as they all began to walk together toward the restaurant door. "I was wondering how long you could keep wearing Heero's shorts before he got tired of doing laundry so often." 

Trowa was then called upon to approve Duo's new outfit -- black jeans and a purple button-up whose sleeves he'd already rolled past his elbows -- and by the time this admiration had been duly granted, they were inside and Heero was looking around for the sister he stated was already here. At the direction of the staff, they made their way to where a couple of tables had been pushed together for them in a comfortable back corner and their hosts waited. 

"Hi, guys!" Relena greeted them, standing alongside her fiance: a friendly, neat-looking person with a very honest face. Though he appeared, like Heero's sister, to be only a few years younger than Quatre and Heero, something about him seemed, to Trowa, excessively young and fresh; it made Trowa feel old all of a sudden. Well, he _was_ old; he supposed it was all right to feel it. 

Heero hugged Relena -- the first time Trowa had seen him hug anyone besides Duo -- briefly shook hands with the fiance at the latter's polite instigation, then took a seat. This left Relena to introduce the rest of them. 

"Everyone," she began with a smile, "this is Colin Morris, my fiance. Col, this is Quatre Winner; he's the one my mother's always worried Heero's going to start going out with any day." 

"Oh, _that_ Quatre Winner." Colin shook Quatre's hand with a smile. "It's good to meet you. Are you sure you're not the Quatre Winner who's some kind of manager at Winner Plastics?" 

"No, I'm that Quatre Winner too," Quatre grinned. 

"Absolutely no shop talk tonight, though," Relena warned. "We're here so everyone can meet everyone else, and to celebrate. I don't want to hear a single word about offices." 

"Yes, ma'am," said Colin dutifully. "But you only said 'dinner with Heero and some of his friends.' What are we celebrating?" 

"We'll get to that. You haven't met the other two yet." 

"Yeah!" Duo pushed forward. "I'm coming to you guys' wedding and I've never even officially met the groom!" 

Relena laughed. "Well, that's not _that_ unusual. But, Colin, this is Duo Maxwell, Heero's new boyfriend." 

Colin threw a glance at Heero. "A new boyfriend? Nice work, old boy." Then he shook hands with Duo, who was deliberately preening as if Colin's words had been specifically in compliment to him. 

"And this is Trowa Barton, Quatre's boyfriend." Trowa was a little surprised she'd gotten his name right, given the brevity of their last meeting. He'd only remembered hers because the others had said it a few times earlier. 

"Pleased to meet you," Colin smiled, shaking Trowa's hand. 

As the last introduced, Trowa was the last to take his seat, and found himself, to his pleasure, between Quatre and Duo with his back to the wall; at least one of them must have been looking out for him. 

Colin, now sitting opposite Trowa beside Relena, glanced around once the noisy scraping of their chairs had mostly ceased, and asked jovially, "So what is it we're celebrating?" 

There was a lot of side-eying in response to this among the other men. "We're telling everything, right?" Quatre confirmed at last. 

"Only if you want to," replied Relena placidly. "If not, we can just have a mystery celebration and he can wonder forever." 

"That hardly seems fair!" Colin protested. 

"I don't think any of us mind telling," grinned Quatre, looking around at his friends. 

Trowa and Heero shook their heads in concurrence. Duo shrugged and said, "Sure... it's not like he'll believe it anyway," at which both Quatre and Relena laughed. 

"All right, now I'm _dying_ to know," said Colin. 

"Let's all decide what we want first," was Relena's authoritative suggestion, probably in response to the waitress that had been patiently standing nearby watching them get settled. 

Trowa chose some kind of salad that had chicken and mandarin oranges on top, declined Quatre's facetious, sotto voce offer of a glass of wine with only a very slight blush, then sat back and waited for someone else to begin the story. And someone else did, but only after Colin had been commanded not to express his opinion on anything until the entire account was made, and a brief debate over whether it would sound better in chronological order or as Heero and Quatre had experienced it -- an exchange that seemed to render poor Colin quite amusingly wild with curiosity. 

Quatre made a good tale of it, leaving nothing out except for the more personal details, and even managing to quell Duo's frequent interruptions fairly skillfully. He told about the curse, some of Duo's unfortunate history as a doll, and how Trowa had spent so many years looking for him; how he and Heero had come to be involved, and been found by Trowa; what the latter had tried before they'd discovered the answer -- Trowa was surprised Quatre remembered so many details there; the little human abilities Duo had gradually attained; Heero's troubles with co-workers -- some of which Trowa hadn't heard about, and which were rather funny; the misunderstandings that kept them all dancing around important issues for so long -- just in general: not enough to be embarrassing, only enough to be entertaining; and about their tension and concern that final evening. 

It was a longer story than Trowa had realized. Of course it spanned an entire century, but just in the telling it took over an hour. Part of that was the aforementioned interruptions from Duo and the occasional question from Relena or even Colin (who was apparently allowed to make interjections if they were in search of clarification), but it really did take quite a while; they were all finished eating (except Quatre, whose mouth had been occupied with words) by the time it was done. 

When Quatre had fallen silent, everyone else did too, and eventually they were all looking at Colin somewhat expectantly -- even Duo, who had formerly been studying the dessert menu with intense purpose. Trowa couldn't imagine how this must sound to someone that previously hadn't even known magic existed; he thought back to his last visit to this restaurant, when he'd been so desperate to convince Quatre and Heero to let him see Duo that he'd been willing to pour his heart out to total strangers. Rather to his own surprise, tonight he found himself more entertained and curious to hear what Colin would have to say than anything else. 

"Well," Colin began with a half baffled grin, running his hand through his hair. "I think I'm still waiting for you guys to announce that this is a screenplay you've collaborated on and you want to know what I think of it." 

There were a couple of chuckles from around the table indicating that Colin was reacting exactly as expected. 

"Or a novel?" he suggested next. "I've never heard of four people co-authoring all at once, but..." 

Duo covered his mouth to stifle an even louder laugh, but couldn't hide his grin. 

"A pitch for a television series?" Colin looked around at them, still jovially confused. "I mean, it's a great story, but..." 

"It's totally for real, Col," said Relena. She patted him on the shoulder with an expression of amused sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take in at once. It was hard for me even when Duo was a doll." 

Now it was Colin's turn for a laugh, though his was utterly disbelieving and still a little baffled. "OK," he said, obviously deciding to play along and not the least bit convinced. "OK, so..." He turned his eyes toward Duo and asked, attempting to keep a straight face, "So how long were you a doll, again?" 

"Eighty-seven years," replied Duo, grinning lopsidedly. He could see as well as the rest of them that Colin didn't believe any of this yet. 

"Right, right." Colin shook his head. What he must be thinking of their motives and their sense of entertainment at the moment Trowa could only guess, and trying to guess was rather amusing. But it was time to speed things up. 

Fixing his eyes on the glass across the table from him, Trowa murmured a spell. 

Looking a little startled, as people often did when they heard the magical language for the first time, Colin glanced back abruptly at Trowa and said, "What was tha--whoa!" And he jumped backward, making his chair screech across the tile floor and topple as he left it, upon catching sight of his Diet Coke suddenly bright red fading to orange. 

Almost everyone else at the table laughed again (which, in the face of Colin's startlement, was perhaps a bit insensitive), and Quatre actually leaned over and kissed Trowa on the cheek. "Well done," he said. 

"Sit down," Relena bade her fiance with a grin, rising to right his chair for him. "You should have seen what he did to convince _me_" -- though, if Trowa recalled correctly, this had been nothing more than some nonsense with cards (well, technically it _had_ been magic, but it probably could have been duplicated by sleight of hand). "We're fine," she next told the waiter that came hurrying over, trying not to laugh as she took a step to the side to hide the still-vacillating drink. 

At the latter Colin stared as he slowly resumed his seat. It faded from blue to purple, then back to its proper brown, under his eyes, and he then looked up at Trowa. "Can you..." he asked hesitantly. "Can you do that again?" 

In the past, Trowa had rarely been pleased with requests for meaningless displays of magic (the most notable exceptions being when Quatre was involved), but at the moment he was only amused and happy to comply. This time he instructed the soda to progress through a series of greens and yellows to white and then back, and Colin watched in open-mouthed astonishment. 

"That's... amazing..." he breathed. "What else can you do?" 

Trowa shrugged, casting about for something more interesting. His gaze alighted on the salt and pepper shakers, and he spoke a slightly more complicated spell to make them hover just above the table and engage in a spinning dance. 

"I think you've got a fan, Trois," Duo grinned, for Colin still hadn't managed to shut his gaping mouth and his eyes were shining with wonder. 

"It _is_ extremely sexy," said Quatre seriously. 

"I don't know about sexy..." Colin was beginning to get hold of himself, but at the same time seemed increasingly excited. "But it's amazing! Is it real magic? Or else how do you do it? Actually..." he added in a mixture of still-agitated pensiveness and loyalty, "it might be pretty sexy if Relena did it." 

"She probably could, eventually," Duo said thoughtfully. "Heero's got the talent, and it usually does run in families." 

Colin looked at his fiance with brows raised in pleased surprised. Relena managed to put on a mysterious expression just in time, though there was mirth behind it. This made Quatre and Duo laugh again, and even Trowa had to smile. 

"OK, so..." Colin turned back to sweep his eyes somewhat greedily over the rest of them again; they came to rest on Trowa. "You turned him into a _doll_?" 

So the story, essentially, had to be told all over. It didn't take quite as long as last time, and in this instance the distractions were provided by Trowa himself as he continued to work magic on a small scale all across their dining space for Colin's entertainment, ceasing only, abruptly, whenever anyone walked by or they ordered dessert or their dessert arrived. At that point Duo tried a few spells of his own, which, he being rather rusty, ended up getting whipped cream from the top of his pie all over his face and his brand-new shirt (and Trowa did _not_ miss the look he and Heero exchanged at this). 

There could be no doubt: Colin was convinced, and extremely interested in everything. His innocent fascination drew even Trowa and Heero out of their reticence to answer his very engaging questions, and soon everyone seemed much more at ease than Trowa had thought they (or at least he) could possibly be this evening. Not only that, here he was doing magic -- utterly pointless magic -- without feeling the least bit bad about it or expecting anything in return. Maybe relearning how to make friends and have fun with them wouldn't be quite as difficult as he'd thought. 

And under the table, he felt Quatre's hand take hold of his, and everything in the world was fine.


	99. Part 98

It was becoming something of a tradition for Trowa to help Heero make dinner for the four of them after work on at least a couple of nights of the week. Quatre thought Heero enjoyed observing the magic Trowa used for this purpose, though he hadn't yet agreed to start learning how to do it himself; and that Trowa liked having the chance to make food for his lover rather than the other way around -- though whether this was because Quatre's hopelessness in the kitchen had shone through even in all those microwave meals or because Trowa simply enjoyed the reversal of roles, Quatre couldn't guess. 

"So, Duo," Quatre said lazily as they were both lounging on the sofa one Tuesday evening waiting for their boyfriends to cater to their every whim, "you've been human for two weeks now... how are you liking it?" 

"That," said Duo solemnly, "is a very stupid question." 

"It is not. You were a doll for a lot longer than you were a human before; I thought maybe after turning back you might have realized you liked being a doll better." 

"That," Duo echoed himself, "is a very stupid idea." 

Quatre stuck out his tongue. Duo threw one of the smaller couch cushions at him. It was too point-blank for Quatre to catch it except as it bounced off his face, but once it had done so, he propped it behind him and leaned back against it. "Seriously, though," he went on. "What are your plans?" 

Duo, his half of the couch now one cushion less comfortable, nevertheless also leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Oh, there's all sorts of stuff I need to do." His tone sounded as lazy as the one with which Quatre had introduced this topic, yet perfectly serious. "Heero's going to start teaching me to drive one of these days..." 

"Wow, that's a scary thought," Quatre murmured. 

"Isn't it?" Heero agreed from the kitchen. 

"You two can just both shut up," said Duo. "Anyway, so then I'll be able to get a driver's license. Oh, but first I need a state I.D. and a birth certificate and stuff so I can exist." 

"I'm working on that," said Trowa, also from the kitchen. 

"He could just get you a driver's license," Quatre pointed out. "Trowa, your people can get him anything, can't they?" 

"Nobody is driving my car until they actually know how to drive," Heero put in. 

"There you go," said Duo, grinning. "Also I think I'll try for one of those GED things. Trowa's people could get me one of those too, but it's stuff I'm going to want to be sure I know." 

"Oh, that's a good idea," Quatre nodded. "Then I can get you a job." 

"Can you?" 

"Yeah, we don't hire high school dropouts. Usually we want a college degree, actually... but if a Regional Manager recommends you, you may be able to get in without one." 

"Well, I think I'll want a college degree at some point too. But I _will_ need a job for that." 

"If you promise to get real work done every day without distracting Heero too much, I'll see what I can do." 

"I can't help it if I'm distracting." Duo tried to look innocent and failed. 

Quatre laughed. "As long as it's non-contact distraction." 

From the kitchen he barely caught Heero's muttered, "That's just as bad." 

"Hey! I said it's not my fault!" Duo could hardly make this protest with a straight face. "Did I _force_ you guys to take that week off? Besides!" He veered suddenly onto the offensive. "Trowa! How's your book coming?" 

"I haven't actually started it yet," replied Trowa placidly. 

With a very pointed look at Quatre, Duo said, "See?" 

Quatre just laughed again. Then he brought them back around to the real topic of discussion with, "I think it's about $75 to take the GED; you could probably do it as soon as you think you're ready. I know there are study guides..." 

"Yeah," Duo nodded. "I'm going to end up owing Heero my soul if he keeps paying for all these things for me." 

Just to see what Heero would say, Quatre suggested, "I could pay for it for you." 

"No." As expected, Heero advanced to the edge of the linoleum and spoke directly out at them. "If Duo's going to owe his soul to anyone, it's going to be me." 

"Awww," said Duo, sounding pleased. "See," he added in an undertone to Quatre, "_him_ I can pay back with sex." 

Quatre snorted. Heero said, "What was that?" 

"Nothing!" Duo sang. 

"Trowa, go see what they're doing over there," Heero ordered. 

Presently Trowa's face appeared above Quatre's, leaning over the back of the couch to look at him. "What are you doing over here?" he asked quietly, appearing amused. Quatre reached up suddenly and dragged him into an upside-down, off-balance kiss. 

"PDA! PDA!" cried Duo, and began beating at them with the one small couch cushion still within his reach. 

Trowa stepped aside, but Quatre wasn't going to take this. He retrieved one of the three pillows on his end and retaliated. Soon the combat escalated off the couch, and laughter was threatening to defeat them both before either could force the other to yield. But then Duo called out something in the magical language, and the other two small cushions -- which Quatre had been keeping his eye on, as backup weaponry -- jumped into the air and flew toward him. 

"That is not fair!" Quatre protested breathlessly. "Trowa, help!" 

"How old are you two?" wondered Trowa, unmoved. 

"I'm a hundred and eleven!" Duo cried triumphantly. 

"You shouldn't be allowed to use magic!" Quatre was laughing helplessly as Duo and Duo's accomplices battered him and he was rarely able to get in a shot of his own. Then, finally, he heard Trowa's voice calmly coming to his assistance. In response to the mysterious words, one of the aggressive floating cushions sped off abruptly in another direction -- a poorly-chosen direction, it turned out, for it careened into the lamp on the end table. Trowa started forward and spoke a quick, brief phrase, and the lamp halted in response to his outstretched hand, hovering and turning very slowly in mid-air. 

Duo, looking impressed, cast a quick spell of his own to make the last couch cushion stop attacking Quatre, then came to look at Trowa's work. "Good lord, Trois... you didn't even specify an object! You've got to be the best magician of the century or something!" 

"I may be," Trowa replied. "I did gesture, though." There was only honesty -- not even the slightest touch of braggadocio -- in his tone; Quatre doubted there could be anything sexier in the world than his quick-thinking use of magic and subsequent modesty. 

Heero, having left the kitchen and joined them where they were gathered around the end table, was examining the floating lamp with some interest, peering closely at it and bending to look from all angles. "You just said, 'Let it hover.'" He sounded as impressed as Duo, though presumably Duo knew better than he did why this was so impressive. 

Trowa nodded. 

Taking the lamp in his hands almost gingerly, Heero guided it back onto the end table and watched it for a moment as if it might float away now that he'd let go. Then he turned to Duo. From this angle Quatre couldn't see the expression on his face, but Duo started backing away with raised hands and a winningly sheepish grin. "Duo," Heero said darkly, pursuing his retreating boyfriend around the TV stand, "you're going to owe me more than your soul if you start breaking things in my apartment." 

"It wasn't my fault!" Duo protested, disappearing into the hall in his attempt to escape justice. 

"You started it." 

"But the spell--" Duo's words were suddenly cut off, and Quatre assumed that Heero had caught up with him and was exacting whatever revenge he saw fit. 

Laughing, Quatre bent to retrieve the scattered cushions and straighten the couch. When he was finished, he found Trowa close beside him, raising his hands to smooth out Quatre's hair -- which, he informed him in a murmur, was a mess. Liking the feeling of those long, slender fingers, Quatre raised his face and smiled. Trowa smiled back, summoning the usual butterflies that this time fluttered up into the joyful thought that it was taking less and less to get Trowa to smile these days. 

"Thank you," Quatre murmured. 

Briefly, unexpectedly, Trowa bent and kissed him. "You're welcome." Then he returned to the kitchen to resume whatever he'd been working on before all the drama had started. "Heero, can this bread come out?" he called after a moment. 

For some time there was no answer from down the hall, but eventually a very disinterested-sounding affirmative floated out to them. Quatre chuckled and returned to the sofa. Eventually their friends emerged, both looking just a little flushed; Heero went back to the kitchen without a word, and Duo came to sit beside Quatre again. 

"In answer to your question earlier," said Duo, putting his hands behind his head once more and relaxing back into the replaced cushions, "I fucking love being human."


	100. Part 99

It was going to be a while, Duo thought, before he was really accustomed to his own humanity again. As Quatre had pointed out earlier this week, he'd been a doll a lot longer than he'd been a human, and probably had become more accustomed to _not_ being able to feel or smell or taste than he'd ever been to the ability. And the more he considered the matter, the more he thought that with this contrast in mind was the best way to live. 

Everyone else he saw -- when he was wandering around aimlessly while Heero was at work, or when he went shopping with Heero and made sure anyone that saw them knew they were a couple -- they didn't appreciate things the way he did. They didn't recognize how marvelous it was just to be able to breathe, to walk, to eat, to have a choice about where they went or what they did, to have physical sensations and awareness and needs. 

Admittedly it _was_ a little bizarre to be so pleased when he had to get up in the middle of the night to use the toilet. Other people didn't need to be as happy about such a circumstance as Duo was, and, really, _Duo_ didn't need to be as happy about such a circumstance as Duo was. But he still thought he was lucky, thought he saw life in a better light than anyone that had never been a doll. Though he couldn't exactly pity them for never having been dolls, he did pity them for not being as happy as he was; the whole entire world could never be as wonderful to them as it was to him, and that was a little sad. 

Of course, they didn't have Heero either, and that -- for them -- was sadder than anything. But, once again, Duo thought as he crawled back into bed next to his sleeping boyfriend, he wouldn't wish it otherwise. 

He had already spent quite a lot of time -- more than two hundred fifty hours, he estimated -- watching Heero sleep, but like this it was so different as to seem a completely new and separate experience. Now he could reach over and run his hand through Heero's hair, push it out of his face if it was being particularly unruly; bend and kiss him if he wished, even press himself fully against him if he was feeling cold or lonely. All this, and also it made a difference knowing that he too could fall asleep at any time, that he would wake up at Heero's side if not actually in his arms. 

Now he touched Heero's beautiful face softly with his fingertips, and Heero unconsciously responded by wrinkling his nose as if to dislodge a crawling itch. Duo laughed silently, and draped his arm across Heero's chest. Heero made a faint noise, raised a hand to clasp at the arm, and then settled into stillness again. 

Overwhelmed suddenly with burning happiness that made him want to shout out loud, Duo instead pressed his lips to Heero's cheek and then forced himself to stop moving. He still almost couldn't believe that things had turned out like this, that he'd found someone like Heero. He was sure there were other people in the world that would have been willing to go through a month of inconvenience with him, but of those, how many was he likely to have fallen in love with? Heero was one in a million; if Duo hadn't ended up in the gutter outside _his_ office at just the right time, he would not be breathing right now. 

He wondered suddenly how things would have gone -- for all of them -- if the curse had never happened. If he had never met that woman -- what had her name been? -- or if he and Trowa hadn't argued, or if Trowa had never gotten hold of that artifact, where would they all be now? Well, _now_ he and Trowa would be dead, of course. But how would their lives have gone? They probably would have been lovers eventually, and perhaps it would have lasted. They would have lived out their days in relative contentment, not knowing what they were missing. 

And here in the future, would Heero have stayed lonely? Would he ever have found someone that could get past his walls and make him laugh? Or would he eventually just have hooked up with his best friend, the supportive person he'd once kissed because they 'might as well try it?' Duo thought Heero and Quatre could have been happy together too, for all the control issues, not knowing that a greater happiness would have found them if things had happened differently ninety years before. 

It was funny how almost a century of suffering could lead to the best possible solution in the end... because Duo couldn't imagine being happier than he was now. And now that all was said and done, he couldn't really regret the curse, either. If he had to do it over again, knowing that Heero was at the end of it... well, he would certainly complain about being a doll, but he wouldn't hesitate. 

Falling asleep was marvelous. So far there were no signs of the insomnia that had plagued him in earlier life -- but, then, there had been very few nights since the breaking of the curse when he hadn't been rather worn out by the time he was attempting to sleep; Heero had a lot more energy than Duo had expected, and Duo was _not_ complaining. He loved to sink into fluffy unawareness with his arms around Heero, loved that Heero's face was routinely the last thing he saw before drifting off. 

Of course, waking up was nice these days too. Even if it was at some ungodly hour he would never before deliberately have endured (as a human), it was a reminder both that he was capable of sleep and that Heero was beside him and had been all night. There was very little, in fact, from which Duo could not derive pleasure these days. And that today was Sunday and they were not required to wake to an alarm, that Heero didn't have work, could only make a good situation better. 

Heero, however, seemed to feel things less than perfect, for he made an unhappy noise when Duo's luxurious stretching woke him up, and buried his face in the pillow. 

Duo kissed the back of his neck and said, "What's wrong?" 

"We're having dinner with my parents tonight, remember?" 

Now that he mentioned it, Duo _did_ remember. He might have been dreading it, if not for the fact that being human enough to meet his boyfriend's parents made him so damn happy. _Heero_ was dreading it, though, Duo knew. He ran his hands through the messy dark hair and kissed him again. "That's, like..." He glanced at the clock. "Seven hours from now. Why are you thinking about it now?" 

"I can't help it if you're not distracting me," Heero muttered. 

"Oh! That sounds like a challenge!" Duo scrambled off the bed. As he was already naked, he couldn't engage in any sort of striptease to capture his reluctant lover's attention, so, as soon as he knew Heero had turned his eyes out of the pillow and was looking in this direction, he seized the first object to hand off the dresser. It turned out to be a tie that Heero hadn't bothered to put away on Friday after work -- somewhat boring green and gold stripes -- and Duo ran it through his hands with a pensive little smile. "You have no idea what I'm about to do in the shower," he murmured, and headed for the bathroom. 

Sounds of bedding being hastily thrown aside came from behind him, along with Heero's protest, "That's dry-clean only!" 

"Is that really all you can say?" Duo laughed, and turned the hot water on. 

They didn't see anything of Trowa and Quatre that day, and Duo, thinking back to the last time Heero had accepted his parents' dinner invitation, wondered idly whether they might not be in Paris again. Therefore, since he and Heero had gotten the apartment cleaned up yesterday -- an activity that, like most of his new life, Duo enjoyed a good deal more than he might have expected -- there was nothing to amuse themselves with but sex and Oz and random conversation. The first was scattered throughout the day; the second, Duo greatly enjoyed because he finally got a turn to read and the opportunity to do voices; the third was as good as always, despite Heero's apprehension for this evening. 

When the latter did eventually come, for all Heero seemed to want to delay it, Duo took him by the hand and said very seriously, "Hey. You only have to do this once, and then it'll be over." 

Heero just sighed. 

Duo kissed his cheek. "They have to come around eventually, and it'll probably be tonight, since I'm pretty sure nobody in the world could hold out against the power of our love." 

Still Heero looked grim. 

"Plus they're smart people," Duo tried. "I mean, they're _your_ parents." When this contrived compliment also failed to win him a positive reaction, he added, "And I'm sure they really do want you to be happy. You are happy, aren't you?" 

Finally Heero smiled; it looked a little forced, but the fact that he was forcing it for Duo's sake meant something anyway. "Yes," he said. "You're right. I wish it were as simple as you make it sound, but you're still right." And he returned the cheek-kiss. Then, with another sigh that was more the release of a deep, determined breath, he added, "Let's get ready to go."


	101. Part 100

The Asian district in this city wasn't the most stereotypically Asian example of such a neighborhood Heero had ever heard of, which seemed to cause Duo some disappointment as he saw it now for the first time. That didn't mean Duo wasn't still behaving like an adorable dog with its panting head out the car window, though, or that he didn't exclaim over what architecture and decoration _did_ clearly say 'Asian' to his American eyes. Heero answered his random questions about the area and growing up there, but otherwise remained silent during the drive. He had no idea how tonight was going to go, and was bracing himself harder than usual. 

His father had never been demonstrative, but even he, when Heero had made his announcement four years back, had been direct and rather emotional with his immediate expression of disapproval. Mrs. Yuy's reaction didn't bear thinking of. There had been tears and angry words and then that long period of noncommunication, and the wounds occasioned that day had never really been discussed or patched up. Gradually, eventually, they'd begun talking again, without ever really mentioning the confrontation or Heero's sexuality. Things had smoothed out, for the most part, but for the occasional veiled hint or attempt to set him up with some girl, and hadn't become truly awkward again until Relena's engagement. 

Quatre and Relena both thought that what Heero needed was a boyfriend, to show his parents that he really was gay, that he was happy that way, that he had the potential for life-long happiness in declining to deny what he was. Heero had always agreed with them, up to a point... and that point, unfortunately, seemed to be where he actually brought the new boyfriend to meet his parents and attempt to prove all those things. Because he didn't know that he really believed it would help. And he just couldn't stand the thought of his parents' continued disapproval. If they were unpleasant to Duo, or if they gave any indication, in his presence, that they still believed this was a game or a mistake... Heero was afraid there would be another row, this one undoubtedly a little more difficult to recover from. 

"You OK?" Duo asked presently. 

"Yeah." Heero couldn't bring himself to say anything more. 

Duo made a sympathetic noise, but it seemed he'd run out of reassurances. 

At that moment, Heero's phone gave off an obnoxious beeping he didn't often hear from it, and he frowned as he fished it out of his pocket. Handing it to Duo he said, "Can you look at that?" 

"_From Winner, Quatre_," Duo read out. "_Texting since you're probably driving and Duo can read it. Just wishing you luck tonight. Trowa says so too. We're cheering for you guys._" He made funny noises as he attempted to read aloud Quatre's signature, which, if Heero remembered correctly, involved a number of unpronounceable symbols as decoration. "That's so sweet." 

Generally Heero hated text messages, and had forbidden Quatre to send him any, but at the moment couldn't but appreciate the sentiment written out so definitively -- especially since, if Quatre had actually _called_ him this close to the time, Heero probably wouldn't have answered. He nodded his agreement to Duo's statement. 

His sister and brother-to-be had arrived first, but -- bless her heart -- Relena had obviously insisted on waiting around outside so everyone could enter together. Heero returned her greeting hug particularly enthusiastically. "How are you guys?" she asked as she withdrew. 

"He's freaking out," Duo said bluntly before Heero could answer. 

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that," Heero muttered. 

"Oh, Heero." Relena took his shoulder and squeezed it. "It's going to be fine!" 

"That depends on how you define 'fine.'" 

"Well, it's going to be really awkward at first, but they're going to see that you guys are serious about each other, and they're going to realize that everything is OK. You'll see." Though she spoke with certainty, she clearly observed that he wasn't convinced. Lips tightening, her face took on that authoritative expression so much like one their mother often wore. And in perfect keeping with this, what she said was, "Heero. In case you haven't noticed any time in the last twenty-two years, I'm just like mama. I _know_ how she's going to react. Trust me." 

And at this, Heero had to smile. She _was_ a good deal like their mother, and maybe she was right about being able to predict Mrs. Yuy's reaction because of that. He was still short of words, but he nodded, and she seemed to accept this answer. 

"And don't forget that we have your back," said Colin, placing his own hand on Heero's unoccupied shoulder. Everything Colin said usually sounded so polished, but now there was just a touch of uncertainty to his tone. It wasn't that he doubted what he was saying, Heero thought, but rather that he still wasn't quite sure yet how brotherly Heero would allow him to be -- which actually rendered his expression of support more meaningful, given that he'd still offered it. 

"Thank you," said Heero sincerely. Then he squared his shoulders, dislodging both of his well-wishers, and added, "Let's get this over with." 

Relena and Colin joined hands as they headed up across the front lawn toward the porch. And as Heero moved to follow, watching them from behind, his steps slowed. Eventually he came to a complete halt, standing in the middle of the grass as his sister and her fiance drew farther and farther away. 

"What is it?" Duo asked quietly. "Don't tell me you're backing out." 

"No..." Heero took a deep breath and turned to face him. "You know what it's like in there; or at least you heard what it was like last time. It may be worse tonight. And I'm going to do my best to be a real person, but... if I curl up in a ball, or run screaming, I..." 

"I'd like to see that," Duo teased, though his amused tone was still sympathetic. 

"But even if I turn into a... a frigid bitch... I want you to know that I..." It took some effort and another deep breath, but he managed to say it at last. "I love you." 

This time Duo really did knock them both right over with the enthusiasm of his full-contact embrace; he seemed to go from zero to sixty in half an instant and eight inches, and they were suddenly in the grass in a tangle, and from the porch Relena was failing to stifle a laugh. Duo was also laughing at his own inadvertent tackle, but Heero thought this laughter had somewhat the sound of restrained sobbing. When he put his mouth close to Heero's ear and whispered to him, the tone of his voice confirmed this. 

"You just wait, Heero Yuy... later I'm going to tell you exactly what I think of that." 

"Thanks," Heero said, and found that he sounded a bit choked himself. "That thought should get me through the night." 

Duo's ecstatic smile as he pulled away from Heero and jumped up, then offered a hand to help Heero up after him, would have been a sufficient reward in itself, even without his words. Once Heero was on his feet again, Duo kissed him hard for a moment before accompanying him on across the lawn. They all filed through the door, Duo still grinning and Heero with a heart just the tiniest bit lighter for it. 

As usual, his father was waiting in the front room, and his mother entered when she heard them. There were the typical hearty greetings for Relena and Colin, and then the Yuy parents turned toward their son and the stranger. Relena had been the one to request permission for another friend to join them for dinner tonight, so this would be the first indication not only of said friend's name but of what, exactly, he was to those present. This would be the moment that would determine quite a bit of Heero's happiness or pain for the next he knew not how long. 

Yet he found, now that it came to it, rather than the reluctance and deep concern he'd been experiencing all day -- and, to a certain extent, all week, all month, perhaps every month and every year since he'd realized this moment must come -- that this wasn't going to be nearly as difficult as he'd anticipated. He had a man he loved beside him, and supportive friends around him, and the assurance of good thoughts from those that were absent; he would survive whatever happened here. 

"Mama, papa," he said. Deliberately, he reached for Duo's hand. "I want you to meet Duo Maxwell, my boyfriend."


End file.
